On The Edge of Reality
by theangelshavemymind
Summary: Dean and Sam are Hunters, but not your normal "kill Bambi's mother" kinda hunters. They can walk through people's dreams. When another group of Hunters show up, things take a turn for the worse and Dean is left with a brother in a coma and the task of trying to kill these Angels that have suddenly turned his world on its head. Dream worlds AU. Original story. Destiel
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is set in an alternate universe. Dean and Sam are Hunters, which are people that have the ability to enter other people's dreams to extract information, dream speak, etc. Not an Inception AU, but kinda similar. **

**So far this fic is coming in at just under 50,000 words, and I have plans to take it to at least a 100,000. I will try to update regularly. Know that the M rating will come into play more in the later chapters. There are mentions of suicide and other things that might be triggering, so know that. Also language and sensuality. I will put a note before the chapters that really deserve the M rating.  
**

**Let me know what you guys think!**

* * *

Dean took a slow breath, clearing his head. He looked up slowly, eyes scanning the building before him. It was a simple extraction, just a tiny thought, but it was vital that they got it.

The building was old, very old. Dean shook his head as he walked into it. He was used to better worlds than this. But then again the subject wasn't ever trained, Dean could hardly expect him to have the skill that took years to acquire.

Dean made his way to the elevator of the building. It was an old style cage lift, complete with a sliding gate. Dean slipped inside, taking care to slowly slide the gate back into place as he thumbed the top floor button.

The lift took off with a lurch and Dean stumbled a bit, cursing under his breath. His quick eyes watched the floors that he passed. Most were empty aside from the occasional furniture piece draped with a white sheet.

The lift finally clambered to a stop, metal screeching as the wheels and pulleys shifted to a stop. Dean slid the gate open, one hand going to his concealed gun. He relaxed slightly as he stepped out into a quiet room. It was empty aside from a chair which sat in the middle of the room, its back to Dean.

Dean inched slowly up to it, fingers tensing over his gun again. He drew the gun slowly, checking his breath as he did so. There was someone here, he could sense it, years of training and missions alerted him to the presence of another consciousness in the room.

He leapt in front of the chair, gun raised, finger tensed over the trigger, the barrel pointing into the smirking face of Azazel.

The man's lips curled into a smile as he said softly, "Dean, so good to see you again."

"Shut up you damn son of a bitch," Dean hissed, pressing the gun between Azazel's eyes

Azazel just grinned wider. "You know she begged me not to kill her. I can still hear her screams. Music to these old ears."

"I said shut up." Dean dug the gun harder into Azazel's head.

"She was so young, so pretty. And she had so much potential."

"Shut up."

"She almost gave it to me you know," Azazel mumbled, leaning away from Dean's gun ever so slightly, "She was so close to giving it up, but then your idiot of a father had to go and ruin everything, didn't he?"

"Shut the hell up!" Dean cried.

His finger twitched over the trigger. He could shoot, he could put a bullet through Azazel's head right here, right now and watch in satisfaction as the blood dripped from his temple. But it would mean nothing, not in this reality.

Azazel smiled again, a cruel, unforgiving smile. "You can't kill me and you know it."

Dean angled the gun so that it was positioned under Azazel's chin. Azazel's breathes were steady. He looked Dean in the eyes, the sickly yellow fixed to the bright green.

"Just do it, Winchester," he hissed.

Dean's hand shook slightly and he was so close, so close to pulling the trigger and sending Azazel's brains into the air. At least he could have the satisfaction of killing Azazel here, even if he couldn't in real life.

"Do it," Azazel commanded again.

The gun pressed harder into Azazel's chin for a moment, and then Dean pulled it back, aiming it under his own chin instead. He fixed Azazel with a bright eyed gaze that made the man shift uncomfortably in the ratty chair, and then Dean pulled the trigger.

Dean woke with a start. He sat up, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling of the pod he was in. He laid back down, breathing slowly, letting his mind catch back up with his body. He could still feel the coolness of the gun in his hand, but when he looked down it was just his empty hand, shaking slightly as he raised it in front of his face.

The pod lid lifted with a sudden hissing noise and Dean peered up into the face of Jo. She had worry etched on her delicate features and judging by the bags under her eyes, she had waited up the entire time Dean had been Hunting.

"Did you get it?" she asked as he sat up.

"No," Dean growled, swinging his legs over the side of the pod.

"No?"

"There were complications."

Dean didn't allow her to question him more. He slid off the raised platform and limped out of the room. He could feel Jo's eyes following him, but he didn't care. He needed a cold beer and something to take his mind off his failed mission.

He sauntered into the kitchen of the base, taking note of the discarded cheeseburger wrappers that littered the counter. He rifled through the fridge looking for anything that he could sink his teeth into. Upon finding a final cheeseburger he let out a sigh of relief, grabbed a beer and then went to slump down in the sole chair at the counter.

The cheeseburger turned out to be crap, but it was still food and it would do. He scarfed it down, taking a swig of the cheep beer with each bite. Damn did he long for decent food, for decent anything actually, for an actual bed and someplace other than this shitty old abandoned warehouse that they called headquarters.

But he shouldn't be complaining. It did the job, hiding them from the prying eyes of the other Hunters who had been trailing them. At least it was big enough to accommodate the pods, which were hell to move around. Dean would much rather sleep on a hard floor than reassemble the pods each day.

He took another long sip of his beer, wincing slightly as the cold liquid ran down his sore throat. He was still hurting since his last encounter with the rival Hunters that they had brushed up against during an extraction.

Dean could still remember the hatred on their smug faces, the way they smiled as they bared down on them. They were unlike anything Dean had ever seen, mostly small in stature, but their minds were a minefield. One misstep and you were rendered unconscious for god knows how long.

Angels they had called themselves. An advanced group of Hunters, an advanced breed. They had been equipped with abilities that Dean had never even heard of before, and when he had gotten in one of their heads...

He shivered and pressed the cool bottle against his forehead. He didn't want to think about that right now. He needed to focus on the mission that he'd voluntarily aborted by putting that bullet through his skull. It was supposed to be a simple mission, they had just needed the location of a collection of African Dream Root. It wasn't what they usually used to dream walk, seeing as it was far too unreliable, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Dean chucked the empty bottle into the sink and headed out of the kitchen, walking slowly. Without intending to, he found himself heading toward a large metal door. He stared at it for a few seconds, contemplating entering, even though he knew what was on the other side. Slowly he pulled the key from his pocket and slid it down the detector.

The door swung inward and Dean slipped into the dimly lit room beyond. There were numerous ratty old beds littered around the room, all empty save for one, which was occupied by a giant of a man. He was laid out upon it in, feet barely dangling off the edge of the cot. His face was pleasant, but there was something eerily unnatural about the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Dean shut the door softly and walked over to the man. He brushed the brown hair out of the man's eyes muttering, "You need a haircut, Sammy."

Sam didn't respond, not that Dean had expected him to. Dean sighed and pulled over another bed, sitting down on it so that he could watch Sam. He laced his fingers together and stared at his brother.

Sam Winchester had gone out of commission several weeks ago. Dean remembered it like it was yesterday. The determined look on Sam's face as he told Dean that he had found a way. Dean had suspected something was up right away, but he had let Sam experiment. He had let his baby brother experiment his way into a damn coma.

Dean would never forgive himself, he'd never be able to forget the moment that Sam's eyes closed for the last time. He had tried everything to bring his brother out of his self induced coma, but nothing had worked. Of course it was no normal coma though, it was a dream, Sam had lodged himself in a never ending dream with no possible way of getting out.

Even as Dean peeled back Sam's eyelid he could see the faint glow in his irises. It was something that all Hunters had when they entered the dream state, a sort of mental energy that came out in the form of glowing eyes. It could be a pain at times, like when trying to stay hidden among the shadows of a backstreet. They figured out how to combat it though, mostly through simple things like always carrying sunglasses when they enter a dream state. Some of the more experienced Hunters were capable of hiding it. Dean's father could, although Dean never learned. His father passed soon after his mother was killed by Azazel. John Winchester just plain gave up and took the one way ticket, the one dream that they all avoid. It's the dream that you didn't wake up from, and Dean will never watch anyone enter it again, not after he saw his father go through it, not after seeing the light fade from John Winchester's eyes as he let go of the will to live.

Dean let his eyes travel over Sam's slack face. At first he had thought that Sam had found a way to self administer the one way ticket dream, but as soon as the younger Winchester's eyes had closed it was evident that this was a new sort of dream state. It wasn't death, it wasn't life, it was limbo, an eternal limbo that Sam had willingly entered.

Dean couldn't blame him though, because he knew what Sam's dream was. Sam had told him about it in an excited rush many a time. It was a small house, white picket fence, children in the front yard, a family, his family with his late girlfriend Jess. Jess had gone down during an extraction a couple months ago. Sam had shut down, locking himself in his quarters and doing nothing but his experiments. Dean had tried to get him to let go, to talk, anything to bring his brother back, but Sam was adamant that he could find a way to reach Jess.

Sam had a theory that Jess's conciseness had survived, despite the bullet that had ripped through her brain. Dean had told him it was impossible, but Sam wouldn't listen. Dean reckoned that in the end Sam had just gone plain bat shit crazy, settling for the dream instead of reality. Dean had watched as Sam inserted the needle into his arm, eyes wide, mouth stammering nonsense about how he'd cracked the code and how he could bring Jess back. Dean hadn't said anything because he had though it was just another run of the mill dream, that Sam was going to be out for a few hours, then come back and realize that he couldn't save Jess. Dean had even prepared a speech when Sam came out of the dream, a stupid thing about how Sam could give Jess the sendoff she deserved by letting her go. But Sam hadn't woken, he had fallen into the dream coma and Dean had lost him, lost him to the dream that his brother had chosen over him.

Dean wiped a stray tear from his eye as he rubbed circles onto the back of Sam's cold hand. He often came to visit Sam and talk to him, even if he didn't talk back. Dean checked the bags of fluid that were keeping Sam alive, fluffed the pillow behind Sam's shaggy head, and then he launched into a summary of the latest.

"I couldn't get the location of the dream root. Azazel brought up mom and I lost it." Dean chuckled to himself. "Wish I couldn't feel a damn thing during my dream walks. Wouldn't that make it so easy? If you could just get what you needed and not have to deal with anything else, just the information. Hell sometimes I wish I couldn't feel anything at all."

He trailed off as he watched Sam take slow breaths. He looked so peaceful. To the unknowing observer Sam was just sleeping, but not to Dean. This was his Sammy stuck forever in a fake reality and there was no way that Dean could save him. His brother was gone, and Dean still couldn't accept it. That's why Sam was in here, why he was hooked up to a machine, why they had a special ward just for him. It was because Dean couldn't let go, because Dean still had hope that he could save Sammy. It was now that Dean could understand why Sam had fought so hard for Jess. Although Dean wasn't going to lose it like Sam, he was going to stay strong, he was going to bring Sam back.

Dean gripped Sam's hand tightly before leaving the ward. He checked his watch. Two minutes to midnight. The attempted extraction with Azazel had gone longer than he'd expected. At least he could just call it a night and not have to worry about facing Jo, not until morning that was.

He slipped into his quarters and shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. His boots and jeans soon followed. Sitting down on the cold concrete of the ground, he dragged a heavy metal case toward him and opened it. Inside were numerous syringes all filled with clear liquid. He plucked out the one he was looking for and uncapped the needle. He inserted the sharp needle into his arm, grimacing slightly at the small prick of pain. He could feel the drug invading his system, numbing his senses.

The empty syringe was put back in the case, which Dean snapped shut and then stowed under the sleeping bag that served as his bed. He could feel his brain starting to get fuzzy as the drug did its job. He lay back on the floor, the sleeping bag providing little relief from the concrete. He could feel the hard box under his legs and he closed his eyes, waiting for the drug to put him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Dean slinked through the alley, gun poised, finger tensed over the trigger. He could see the man in front of him look back nervously. Dean ducked out of sight, hand instinctively covering his eyes, even though he had no need. They weren't glowing because this wasn't a dream, this was real.

The man continued down the alley, his pace quickened. Dean followed at a safe distance, gun still drawn, ready for the slightest change from the man. The man rounded a corner and Dean sped up his pace so that he could keep him in his sights. He had to take this guy out, he wasn't going to fail another mission, and he could waste this guy here, because he was in the real world, not a dream. Dean had managed to find him in reality and he was more than happy to put a bullet through his head.

Dean took the corner in a slow stride, keeping his back pressed to the cold brick wall. His pulse thudded in his ears. He missed this, being in the real world with an actual gun in his hand, with the truth, no lies, no dreams, just him and his target, simple and pure.

The man stopped under the glow of a lone streetlight. He seemed nervous, fiddling aimlessly with his pocket watch. Dean watched from his place in the shadows. The man seemed to be waiting for something, but what? Dean cocked the gun. He should just end it now, get it over with.

He raised the gun slowly, aiming with the skill of an experienced assassin. He took a steady breath and closed one eye. He wouldn't miss, the bullet would go cleanly though the man's temple and it would all be over, he could return victorious.

Time stood still as his finger tensed over the trigger, his breathing slow, eyes fixed on the man. His muscles tensed, his finger compressing the trigger. Dean pulled down the trigger and watched as the gun sparked and smoked. His quick eyes watched for the impact, but instead of his intended target being hit, several things happened at once.

The first thing Dean noticed was the trench coated figure that appeared out of nowhere, stepping in the line of fire and stopping the bullet, literally stopping. The bullet ceased it's movement as though it were frozen and then it dropped to the ground with a soft clink. Dean's mind was racing a million miles an hour, but there was one clear thought, the fact that this couldn't be reality. But that was impossible.

The person turned slowly and Dean was met with a pair of azure eyes, so bright that Dean's breath hitched in his throat.. He knew right way what this man was. He was an Angel. It was all too obvious by the way he held himself, and by the power that seemed to radiate off him.

Dean started to panic slightly as he realized that he was in the same dream as an Angel. That could only mean one thing, that he was the target of this blue eyed killer. Dean stumbled back as the memories of Jess flooded into his mind. The way that the red headed Angel had brought her down in the dream and how Jess hadn't woken when they had returned to reality. The dark blood that had stained the cushioning of her pod. These Angels could kill in dreams and Dean had a feeling that this Angel had been sent to do exactly that to him.

The Angel took a slow step toward Dean and the Hunter did the only thing he could think of, he turned heel and ran. He made it about two feet before he heard it, the sound of wind rushing around him, and then the Angel was in front of him, staring at him through those bright blue orbs.

Dean had absolutely no idea how these Angels managed to get around so fast in the dreams. It was almost as though they had wings as their namesake did. This particular Angel was one that Dean had not seen before. He hadn't been among the attackers that had jumped them in that dream. This Angel had a handsome face, square jaw, long nose, and a mop of untidy dark hair that stuck out in odd angels. If he weren't here to kill Dean, Dean would have defiantly taken a minute to check him out. Not that he was surprised at the Angel's good looks, all of them seemed to be this way, yet another fact that made Dean suspect that they were genetically altered or something.

The Angel advanced slowly on Dean, reaching out a hand, palm held face up, long fingers ghostly pale in the dark alley. Dean backed away only to run into the wall behind him. He looked around in fear. There was no way out, the Angel had him cornered.

Dean's eyes fixed on the blue and he tilted his chin up in defiance growling out, "Make it quick."

The Angel's brow furrowed and he spoke in a voice much lower than Dean had expected, "I am not here to kill you, Dean Winchester."

"What?" Dean asked, confusion etched into his face.

The Angel's hand inched toward Dean's face and Dean pressed back into the wall, trying in vain to avoid the two fingers that the Angel was holding out. They came into contact with Dean's forehead and Dean gasped aloud as he felt the Angel penetrate his mind. He could feel his memories slipping, information presenting itself to the prying Angel. He couldn't have that. The Angels weren't' going to find out anything from him.

He balled his right hand into a fist and raised it slowly. It was hard with the Angel in his mind, but he managed and delivered a hard punch to the Angel's jaw. The Angel's fingers slipped from Dean's forehead and Dean was in control again.

He bolted forward, taking the Angel down in one swift motion so that he was straddling him, legs clamped around his middle. Dean reached up and pinned the Angel's arms above his head, fingers digging into the man's wrists, leaving marks on the alabaster skin. Dean's other hand went to the special knife that he kept on his person, a jagged thing that he had acquired from a rebel Hunter named Ruby, shortly before he had used it to kill her. It was a rare item in that it could wound within the dream state.

Dean placed the knife against the pale column of the Angel's throat, pressing just hard enough to draw the thinnest sliver of blood. He could see the fluttering pulse under the Angel's thin skin. At least these guys could get scared, which meant that they were still partially human.

"You wanna tell me why you're here?" Dean asked, knife remaining against the Angel's throat.

The Angel didn't reply. He licked his chapped lips nervously and Dean's eyes followed the pink tongue, slightly disappointed as it slipped back into the man's mouth. Dean shook his head. This was an Angel, he needed to be interrogating this guy instead of noticing the light dusting of stubble that ran over the man's cheeks, and the way the cerulean eyes locked with the olive green of his.

The man's lips parted slowly and Dean watched as he said, "I am under orders."

"Orders from who?" Dean questioned, pressing the knife harder into the Angel's throat.

"My superiors," the Angel stuttered, eyes flicking down to the knife in fear.

"And who might they be?"

The Angel's mouth opened as if he were going to say who, but then he clamped it shut with an audible click and shook his head.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Can't tell me, huh? Well maybe I could force it out of you."

He angled the knife against the man's cheek, the serrated edge pressed against the skin. Dean dragged the blade toward him slowly, applying pressure so that a thin, deep cut appeared on the man's cheek. The Angel hissed, sucking the air in through his teeth. Dean could feel him shift beneath him, attempting to free his arms from Dean's grasp. Dean held on tighter.

He returned the knife to its previous place at the Angel's neck and said, "Wanna talk yet?"

"I can't tell you anything," the Angel rasped.

"You sure?"

Dean pressed the flat of the knife into the man's vocal chords, electing a choking noise from him. The Angel's eyes went wide and he gasped a few times.

"Please," the Angel choked out.

"Tell me what I want to know!" Dean yelled.

"No!" the Angel screamed, the sound ripped from his throat.

The man's chest heaved underneath Dean, his breath coming out in short gasps. There was a fire in his eyes that Dean had only ever seen when he looked into a mirror. He knew that look, it was the look that Dean often had etched onto his own features. It meant death first.

Dean drew the knife back slightly and the man's eyes darted down to it before going back up to Dean's. Dean knew that he should do whatever it took to get the information. But he couldn't bring himself to puncture any more of the white skin beneath his fingertips.

The Angel followed Dean's movements as Dean slipped the knife into his belt. He climbed off the Angel and then extended a hand to the man. The Angel gripped it tightly and Dean hauled him to his feet. Their hands remained clasped together for the briefest of seconds and then the Angel's hand fell to his side. The blue remained glued to the green however as Dean and the Angel stared at each other. Dean was trying to figure out why he was just letting this guy go, but he couldn't, because all he could see was the pure blue of the Angel's eyes.

The Angel stepped closer, too close. Their breath was mingling and Dean's senses were filled with something pure and heavenly. Dean's eyes fluttered closed as the man's breath ghosted over his lips. For the briefest of seconds Dean thought that he was about to feel the Angel's lips against his, but then he felt the chill of the night air.

He opened his eyes to see the empty alleyway, no sign that there had ever been and Angel in it, other than the fact that Dean's heart was still beating a million miles an hour. He could still feel the warmth of the man's breath against his lips, and then intense blue burned beneath his eyelids as he took a moment to steady himself.

Suddenly someone was on him, yanking his arm up behind his back and pinning it there painfully. He could feel nimble fingers sliding the knife out from his belt and then the cold weapon was at his throat.

A raspy voice hissed into his ear, "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

Dean's eyes went wide as the knife pressed into his neck, drawing blood that dripped down onto his collar. He struggled in the Angel's grip, trying in vain to free himself from the man's strong hands. His movements ceased however as he felt hot breath beating against his neck, right at the spot beneath his ear.

The man whispered something to Dean, lips brushing against Dean's earlobe and making Dean shiver. It was just one word, "Impala."

Dean's mind had a brief second to register the word and then there was a sharp pain in his side and his world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke with a cry. He slammed back onto the hard concrete of the floor, breathing fast. He had been dreaming, it had been his dream. But he had taken the drug, he wasn't supposed to dream and there was no way that the Angel should have been able to infiltrate Dean's dream.

He put his head in his hands and breathed, trying to steady himself. This wasn't right. Hunters weren't able to go into the dreams of other Hunters, not without prepping. The right drug had to be taken, they had to be a certain proximity from each other, and Dean was quite sure that he was nowhere near that Angel.

The memory of the man's eyes came back to Dean in sharp clarity and Dean gasped aloud. He was falling apart. He needed to just breathe, to get his mind under control. He needed to get his head in the game. There were much bigger issues at stake than the fact that Dean could almost feel the man's warmth breath against his dry lips.

He shook his head and laid back down. This could not happen, he cannot let himself go like this. He should focus on what the man had said. Impala was something that Dean was quite familiar with. Impalas were his favorite car. His '67 Chevy Impala was currently parked outside the warehouse. But how could the Angel know about his baby? His car was his business, what did she have to do with the Angels?

Dean's mind shifted to the various possibilities that could involve the car and as he thought he realized that it was starting him in the face. His Impala was usually where his dreams took place, actually always where his dreams took place. Even in the most recent dream, his baby had been parked down in the alley, he had started off in her leather seats before he had started tracking the man.

The Angel must want to dream speak with him. Despite himself, Dean felt his heart speed up at the thought of meeting the blue eyed man in the trench coat again. But why would the Angel want to dream speak? What if it was a trap to kill him? Kill him. Dean's heart nearly skipped a beat as he realized that the Angel had killed him, he had stabbed him with his own knife, but Dean hadn't died, he'd just woken up. He hadn't ended up like Jess. Perhaps it was possible that Angels could choose when they wanted to kill, but if that was the case, then why had that Angel let him live?

Dean spent the rest of the night tossing and turning on the hard floor, his mind filled with unanswered questions and bright blue eyes that bored into his own His eyes had been dormant though. They had not glowed like they always did when he was in a dream. Even in his own dreams his eyes burned a bright emerald green, but they had been dull in that dream. It just didn't make sense, none of it did and it was giving Dean a hell of a headache.

He finally couldn't stand it anymore and he got up with a groan, wondering where this new soreness in his joints had come from. He needed to talk with Ash, he needed a second opinion on this whole Angel business, and he needed a beer pronto.

He pulled on his jeans and padded out of the room and into the kitchen. Jo greeted him with a curt nod from where she was seated at a table. Dean squinted at her and then at the dingy clock on the wall.

"Get enough rest, Sleeping Beauty?" Jo teased as Dean realized it was almost ten.

He scrubbed at his face with his hand and sunk into the chair opposite Jo. He pulled the rest of Jo's bacon and eggs toward him and tucked into it. Jo pursed her lips and watched Dean as he ate. He was aware of her gaze, but he ignored it.

A sudden crash from the doorway made them both look up. Ash stumbled into the room, a can of PBR in one hand and his laptop in the other. His mullet was mussed more than usual and it was obvious that he had spent another sleepless night researching god knows what on the computer that was practically glued to him.

"Buenos dias, bitches," he mumbled, plopping down in the seat across from Dean.

He dropped his laptop onto the table and began fidgeting with the numerous gadgets that he attached to it over the years. Jo rolled her eyes and took her now empty plate over to the sink. Ash finished his beer and held the empty can out to Dean.

"You wanna get me another one?" he asked, wiggling the can expectantly.

Dean flicked it out of his hand and said, "I need to talk with you."

Ash watched the can scuttle across the floor and then he looked back at Dean. "Bout what?"

"The Angels."

"Dean I thought we dropped them," Jo said in exasperation from where she was leaning against the sink.

"We can't just drop them," Dean said angrily, glaring at Jo, "They're still here and we've got bupkis on them."

Ash snorted from behind the monitor of his laptop and Dean yanked the screen back so that he could look at Ash as he said, "Something you want to share with the class?"

Ash gave him a look but sniffed, "Actually yeah." He turned the laptop around so that Dean could see it. "Been doin a bit of research on our Angels. They aren't in any of our records, or so it seems. Dig a little deeper and you get this guy."

He pulled up a picture of a short, bearded man with shifty eyes. He was standing outside of what looked like a research base. A clipboard was clutched tightly in his hands and he appeared to be talking to another man whose back was to the camera.

"And he is?" Dean asked, slightly disappointed that the man wasn't the Angel Dean had met last night.

"His name is Chuck Shurley," Ash explained, "He's a scientist, or was rather. More of a couch potato these days. But, he did work on these Angel dudes."

"So they aren't human," Dean mused.

"I'm not sure what they are. I can't hack into the files on them. But I was able to get an address for our pal Chuck."

Dean leaned back in his chair. "So we pay Chucky a visit then."

"No," Jo said, "We should just let it drop. We've got other things to deal with."

"I can't just let it go, Jo."

"Why not? You didn't seem so into them yesterday."

"Well you try not being interested after one of them invades your dream," Dean yelled.

"Say what?" Ash questioned.

Dean sighed. "One hijacked my dream last night."

"What happened?" Jo asked, coming to sit next to Dean.

"Guy full on gutted me."

Ash's eyes narrowed. "Then how are you still breathing, bro?"

"I don't know. But that wasn't all, my eyes were normal. In my dream they were plain, no shine, nothing."

"And his eyes?" Ash asked.

"Blue and glowing like New York City on a clear night."

"Weird," Ash breathed.

"So what do we do?" Jo asked, the worry clear in her voice

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. He should tell Ash and Jo about the man wanting to dream speak with him, but for some reason he didn't want them to know. He wanted to talk to him without being monitored by Jo, without the watchful eyes of Ash.

"We gotta speak with this Chuck guy," Dean said, pointing to the picture that was still on Ash's laptop.

Jo sighed. "Fine."

"We going somewhere?"

Dean, Jo and Ash turned to look at the scrawny man who had entered the kitchen. He was thin, all gangly limbs, dressed in a plaid shirt and ratty old jeans that ended in grimy Chuck Taylor Converses.

"Hey Garth," Jo said.

Garth gave her a lopsided grin and pulled over the chair from the counter, which was slightly taller than the rest so that Garth looked down at Dean as he said, "So we got another hunt?"

"_We_ do," Dean replied, "Not you."

Garth's face fell. Jo reprimanded Dean, "Garth can go, Ash and I will stay here with Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes, as Garth gave Jo a huge smile before he slipped off the chair saying, "I'm gonna go get ready." He started out of the kitchen, but stopped halfway through the door, turning to ask, "Where exactly are we going?"

* * *

"Why are you dressed like that?" Dean asked Garth, who was next to him as they walked down a quiet street.

Garth was sporting a cheesy cowboy outfit, complete with a Stetson that was a size too big so that it kept falling down over his eyes.

"I'm posing as a Texas Ranger," Garth explained as they came to the stoop of an old house.

"Just don't forget these," Dean said, handing Garth a pair of dark sunglasses.

Garth took them from Dean and slipped them on, covering the slight blue glow of his irises. Dean did the same, hiding the burning emerald green of his own eyes. They stepped onto the porch of the house and Dean stopped Garth with a hand

"Now remember, this guy doesn't know that this is a dream, so no crazy stuff and keep these on even if he thinks it looks weird." Dean prodded Garth's sunglasses.

"I know what to do," Garth complained, "It's not like this is my first extraction."

"No, but it is the first time you've been out in the field since the sock puppet thing."

"Mr. Fizzles was doing a fine interrogation until you ripped his head off," Garth said defensively.

"It was a freakin sock puppet that you were waving in the face of an eighty year old man."

Garth crossed his arms and slouched a bit, but said nothing more as Dean jammed his thumb into the doorbell of the house. He could hear it ringing inside, a harsh buzzing sound that grated against his ears.

There was a shuffling sound and then the door opened to reveal Chuck dressed in a striped bathrobe over a grimy t-shirt and boxers. Rimmed glasses were perched on the edge of his nose and he looked as though he hadn't had a full night's sleep in ages.

Upon seeing Dean and Garth, Chuck's eyes went wide and he let out a cry of, "Holy shit!" before he slammed the door in Dean's face.

Dean gave Garth and look and then he kicked down the door with his boot. They both stepped inside to find Chuck hiding behind his couch.

Chuck's face popped up over the cushions and he put his hands up. "Please don't kill me."

"We're not here to kill you," Garth said, his tone soothing.

"Per se," Dean mumbled under his breath.

Garth shot him a glance before continuing, "We want to ask you some questions about Angels."

Chuck's eyes went wide and he stood up. He pointed to them. "But aren't you guys Angels?"

"Uh, no," Dean said, eying Chuck through his glasses.

Chuck looked confused. "But Hunters don't know," he took a breath, "you guys aren't supposed to know about the Angels."

"Why not?" Dean asked angrily, advancing on Chuck a bit, "And how do you know we're Hunters?"

Chuck motioned to Dean's sunglasses. "You can't hide those from me. Not in my dream anyway. I know who you guys are."

Dean's eyebrows went up in surprise and Garth gave him a worried look. Chuck grinned and Dean pointed a finger at him, "Why don't you tell me who the hell you are?"

"I can't," Chuck replied with a sigh.

"And why not?"

"You really don't know these Angels, do you?" Chuck asked with a shake of his head. He pointed to the ceiling of the house, "They've got ears and eyes everywhere. They'll know if I tell you anything, not that I would."

"There's gotta be some way to talk without being overheard," Garth mused, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing at the spot where they had been.

Chuck glanced to the left as he said hurriedly, "There's no way. They'll hear us no matter what."

"Oh really?" Dean growled.

Chuck's wide eyes followed Dean's hand as it moved down to his belt where he fingered the hilt of his knife. Chuck looked nervous and Dean brought the knife out, sliding it around in his hands. He slipped his sunglasses off and fixed Chuck with a piercing stare, emerald eyes burning into Chuck's blue ones.

Chuck cowered and said softly, "There is one way. But it's gross."

"I don't have a problem with gross," Dean told him.

"Then we're gonna need blood."

"Blood?" Garth asked, a hint of terror in his voice.

Chuck nodded. "We need to make sigils with it. It will keep the Angels from listening in."

Dean rolled up his right sleeve, exposing his forearm. He slid his knife across it in a smooth motion. A thin, clean cut appeared, blood dripping from it and onto Chuck's faded carpet. Dean held it out to Chuck with a, "Get started."

Soon there were several symbols throughout the house, on each window and the door. Dean wrapped a towel around his arm while Chuck washed Dean's blood off in the kitchen sink, muttering about getting some disease from it.

Garth had made himself comfortable on Chuck's couch and was staring at the sigil on the door with curiosity. Chuck padded over to sit next to him. Dean took the chair opposite the couch and slumped down in it, wincing as his arm throbbed a bit. Even in the dream state he could still feel pain, and it sucked, majorly.

"So we can talk now?" Garth asked.

Chuck nodded and his eyes flicked from Garth to Dean as he spoke, "How did you guys find out about the Angels?"

"Had a bit of a run in with a couple of them," Dean explained, trying to keep his voice even, "I have them to thank for the fact that my brother is now in a coma."

"I'm sorry," Chuck said, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah, well sorry doesn't cut it. I need to know everything you can tell me about these angels."

Chuck bit his lip and looked nervously at the sigils before saying softly, "They were an experiment, a sort of upgrade, the next step in Hunters. Faster, stronger, smarter. I was the lead scientist in charge of the operation. I oversaw everything." Chuck shivered and then spoke to his lap, "Some of the stuff I did, the things I saw_ them_ do."

"What kind of things?" Garth asked, his eyes a bit wide.

Chuck shook his head. "It's what they can do. They can do anything and everything. Dream state or not, but in the dreams... they have this sort of power and they can do things and they..."

Chuck trialed off, shaking a bit. His eyes were wide and he looked around frantically as though the Angels were going to appear any minute.

"Any way to kill them?" Dean asked.

"You have to use a special blade, and even then you probably wouldn't have much of a chance at actually stabbing one."

"But at least you_ can_ kill them," Garth said with a small smile.

Dean sat back in the chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest in thought. He fixed Chuck with a bright eyed gaze. "You got one of these swords?"

Chuck shook his head. "I did."

"And where is it now?"

"They have it, along with the rest of the swords."

"Oh great!" Dean threw his hands in the air.

"It's not like I stood much of a chance against them," Chuck said defensively, "It was over as soon as Lucifer was converted."

"Lucifer?" Garth asked.

"He headed the rebellion. My boss Michael was under conversion when Lucifer gathered some of the Angels together. They destroyed everything. All the research, the lab, all of it went up in flames and Lucifer took the rest of the Angels with him."

"This Michael guy," Dean said, "what happened to him?"

"I don't know," Chuck shrugged, "I ran as fast as I could and didn't look back. Michael either went down in the fight, or joined with Lucifer."

"Do either of them wear a tan trench coat?" Dean asked nervously, mind wandering to the Angel in his dream.

"A trench coat?" Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head, "Not that I can remember."

"Blue eyes?" Dean inquired.

"Almost all the Angels had blue eyes. It was a sort of side effect of the conversion."

"Dark hair," Dean said, trying desperately to find out if Chuck knew about his, er, _the _trench coated Angel, "Low raspy voice." He had to stop himself from saying handsome.

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, I think, yeah. I remember him. Castiel Novak."

"Castiel?"

"Yeah. He was converted after Lucifer."

"So he rebelled with Lucifer."

"I don't know. But I don't think he would. Castiel didn't seem the kind to do a thing like that. He was a good man."

There was a temporary silence as Dean let the information sink in, then he asked, "What did you do to convert them?"

"We developed a new drug. We called it Grace. It was pure energy, the same energy that makes your eyes give off light, except this was it in a pure, unadulterated form."

"Damn," Dean breathed.

"Damn is right," Chuck said with a nervous laugh, "I'd never seen anything like it. The results were tenfold what we expected. But something happened with Lucifer. Something went wrong and he... he..." Chuck took a deep breath, "Let's just say that it didn't end well."

"Any other Angels that you remember?" Dean asked.

Chuck shook his head. "Not really. I was there for very few of the actual conversions. Michael handled the rest of them."

"What about weaknesses?" Garth asked.

"Not many. The sigils keep them away, but other than that, nothing. They can be injured, but they heal fast, unless you're using one of the blades."

"So I guess we get ourselves a blade," Dean announced, getting up from the chair, "Come on Garth, time to go."

"But," Garth stuttered.

"I said we're leaving," Dean ordered.

Chuck watched from the couch as Dean pulled out two syringes. He handed one to Garth who took is slowly, cradling it in his fingers.

Dean uncapped his syringe and hovered the needle over his arm. He gave Chuck a curt nod, "Thanks for the info."

"You're welcome," Chuck replied. He gave Dean a sad look. "Don't say that I didn't warn you. And I'm sorry about your brother."

"Yeah, thanks," Dean mumbled before jamming the needle into his arm.

* * *

Dean awoke to the low lighting of his pod. He unlatched the lid and pushed it up, the familiar hissing noise filling his ears. He looked over to Garth's pod. The smooth egg-like machine was still closed and Dean went over to it.

He popped it open, fingers slipping slightly on the smooth surface. Garth blinked up at him and Dean said, "Come on."

Garth followed Dean into the main room of the warehouse that served as their meeting room. It was filled with various things, tables and papers, Ash's equipment, Garth's old television and a whole lot of empty bottles. There were very few things of Dean's. He preferred to keep his personal things in his private quarters.

Jo and Ash were seated behind the computer that Ash had set up in the middle of the room. It was a giant thing, that had five monitors and at least three brains. Ash called it his baby and he often slept with his face smushed onto the keyboard.

"So a blade huh?" Ash asked as Dean and Garth came into the room.

Dean nodded and asked, "You get all the information?"

"Most of it," Ash replied, "You shorted out there for a bit." He gave Dean a look, "Something on your mind?"

Dean tried not to think of Castiel as he said quickly, "No. It must be your computer."

"Hell no! This baby is nothing short of perfect." Ash patted the monitor nearest to him. Then he looked serious. "But you gotta be more careful, Dean. We could be missing out on important info if you keep drifting out like that."

"We had twinkle toes here," Dean said, pointing to Garth, "Unless you lost him too"

"Look guys," Jo interrupted, "We've got more important things to worry about than Dean's connection. We need to focus." Ash and Dean went quiet and Jo continued, "Good. Now, what's the deal with these blades?"

"There is no deal," Dean growled, "We don't have one, they Angels do."

"Then we just take it from them," Garth said.

"Good luck with that," Ash snorted.

Dean listened as an argument broke out among Jo, Ash and Garth. In all honesty, Dean didn't even want to get an Angel blade. He wanted to dream speak with Castiel. He wanted to know what he knew, and he needed to know about him. He couldn't deny the fact that he was having a hard time getting the Angel out of his head. Those intense eyes and the way that Dean had seen a bit of himself in Castiel.

He got up slowly as Garth brought up Mr. Fizzles, and tried to slip out of the room. Jo caught him. "Where are you going, Dean?"

"To bed," Dean replied honestly.

"You're gonna go to sleep right after we actually got some info on these bastards?" Jo said angrily.

Dean didn't reply. He walked out to the sounds of Jo screaming his name, but he didn't care. He needed to talk to Castiel.

He grabbed the case from under his sleeping bag as soon as he got to his quarters, and opened it with shaking fingers. This was something that he'd never done before. He'd dream spoke before, but not with an Angel, not with the things that had put Sam into a coma. But he wasn't angry about it, he just wanted to know about these creatures, about the Grace that flowed through them, about how he couldn't get Castiel out of his head.

He pulled out the syringe he was looking for and uncapped it. The clear liquid swirled around inside the vial. This was wrong, it was so wrong, he should just go back to the main room and work on finding an Angel blade. But he was already inserting the needle into his skin and pressing down, letting the drug infiltrate his system.

He chucked the syringe back in the box and snapped it shut. He could feel his mind starting to get fuzzy. He stood up on shaky legs and shut the door to the room, the click of the lock muffled as it hit his ears. Swaying slightly he made his way back to his sleeping bag. His vision was cloudy and his heartbeat thudded in his ears. He could feel it coming and he focused his mind on single thought: Castiel in his Impala.

Dean opened his eyes to find himself staring at the dash of his car. He pulled his face from the steering wheel, where his forehead had been resting. He blinked a few times and looked around, eyes flashing bright in the rear view mirror. The car was parked by what seemed to be a cliff. Dean kicked open the door and stepped out onto green grass. A rush of wind filled his lungs and he got the taste of salt. He took a few steps forward and his suspicions were confirmed when he took a few steps forward and was treated to a view of the ocean.

The water stretched for miles, clear blue under a fiery sunset. Dean took deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. Sometimes he still couldn't believe how real these dreams felt. He let his eyes roam the coastline, taking in the beauty of it all. Then he remembered the reason he was here.

He went back to the Impala and peered into the backseat, hoping to see a trench coated figure, but it was empty. Dean looked back to the ocean, and then slipped into the driver's seat. Had something gone wrong with the drug? Castiel should be here. Unless there was something special that he needed to do in order to dream speak with Angels.

Dean pounded the steering angrily. Damn was he stupid. He knew that dream speaking was a delicate matter that required details. All he had to go on was Castiel's low voice in his ear speaking a single word. He hadn't even told him a place or a time. Dammit.

Dean rubbed at his eyes. He was an idiot, and now he was stuck in a dream that he had constructed for someone that wasn't even coming. At least it was a decent dream. Some of his dreams turned out to be crap at its finest. Usually he could come up with a decent setting, but lately everything had been the warehouse, all dark hallways and voices that he couldn't make out. He had resorted to the drugs to make sure that he couldn't dream, because he'd rather have nothing than what he was going through. And yet, here was at the edge of a shoreline in his baby, and it was because he had hoped an Angel would show up.

He contemplated just ending the dream with the handgun in the glove compartment, but he was stopped by the sound of rushing wind. He looked up to see Castiel sitting shotgun. The Angel was dressed in his trench coat, a suit underneath. A dark blue tie hug from his neck, a bit askew. Dean's eyes drifted down to Castiel's neck, where the top button of his Oxford was undone, showing a bit of skin.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel rasped.

Dean's breath hitched a bit, because damn did his name sound good on Castiel's lips. He shook his head. Focus, he needed to focus. He actually had a reason for being here, and it wasn't so that he could see Castiel again and look at those ridiculous blue eyes that were currently locked with his, shining a bright indigo in the dream state.

Dean cleared his throat and said, "So it's Castiel, huh?"

Castiel's eyebrows lowered a bit, but he said, "Yes."

"Your buddy Chuck told me a bit about you," Dean said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Chuck Shurley was no friend of mine," Castiel replied, "He was merely the scientist who made me into what I am. We had no relationship outside of the laboratory."

"What about Lucifer?"

"How do you know about Lucifer?"

"Chuck. He told me about Lucifer and Michael, and the Grace drug." Dean moved so that he was facing the Angel. "You wanna tell me your take on this? Or are you here to kill me for real this time?"

Castiel looked down at his hands as he spoke, "I am not permitted to disclose information to you."

"To hell with what you're permitted to do!" Dean yelled. "I want some answers now!"

Castiel sighed and then he said softly, "Give me your knife."

"What?"

"If you want answers we have to set up sigils."

"Oh, right," Dean mumbled.

He pulled out his knife and handed it to Castiel. The Angel took the blade and then rolled up his left sleeve. He drew the blade across the pale flesh in a swift, fluid motion, barely flinching as the red liquid began to seep from the deep cut. He covered two of his fingers in the blood and smeared a symbol on the passenger window of the Impala, then the windshield. He reached over Dean to put a sigil on the driver's window and Dean had to stop his mind from wandering because Castiel's hand was almost resting on his thigh and the Angel was so close that Dean could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"That should give us more privacy," Castiel said.

He sat back and Dean pointed to the bloody cut, "You want me to get you a rag for that?"

"No," Castiel replied.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. A pained expression flitted across his features and then he gasped audibly. Dean watched in fascination as the cut on Castiel's arm began to heal, new flesh stretching over the laceration. Castiel wiped off the dried blood and ran his fingers over the healed flesh before pulling down his sleeve.

"Damn," Dean breathed.

"Another side effect of the Grace," Castiel explained, "I can heal too. In and out of the dream state."

"Could you bring someone back to reality?" Dean asked, mind instantly going to Sam.

"I don't know if I could bring back your brother, Dean," Castiel said, a hint of sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," Dean said angrily before asking, "How the hell do you know so much about me anyway?"

"You are in my charge."

"What?"

"You were assigned to me by my garrison. You were my target."

"So you were supposed to waste me then?" Castiel nodded and Dean asked, "Then why didn't you?"

Castiel looked down at his lap and spoke quietly to his hands, "I had doubts. I had been watching you Dean, you and your brother, and I didn't understand why I was ordered to kill you, why my brothers wanted to kill you Hunters. It just doesn't make sense to me. That's why I wanted to see your memories. I wanted to understand what you had done that warranted you a death sentence."

"Your brothers. Are you talking about Lucifer?"

"No. Lucifer was corrupted, I did not follow him. But some of my brethren did. He twisted their minds."

"Then who are you working for?"

"Michael."

"Michael? So he's survived?"

Castiel nodded. "Michael is very strong. He subdued Lucifer, but was unable to kill him. He was wounded though. We went underground, hid from Lucifer and from the Hunters who were looking for us."

"Why were they looking for you?"

"We were abominations in their eyes. Mutants with a power that we couldn't contain. They hunted us down. My garrison hid, but Lucifer, he fought back with a vengeance. He killed hundreds that day, Angel and Hunter alike. Afterwards, he disappeared. Michael ordered that we cut off all ties to him so we did. We tried to hide, but the Hunters found us. We killed them under Michael's orders and something happened to him. He changed and he started ordering us to kill the Hunters in their dreams. He said it was more humane that way."

"Humane my ass," Dean said angrily.

Castiel's eyes glanced downward in shame, "Michael reassured us that they wouldn't feel any pain, that they just wouldn't wake."

"You bastards killed my brother's girlfriend! You put a bullet through her head! Her death is the reason my brother is in a god damn coma right now!"

Dean's words echoed in the air and he could see Castiel flinch at the anger in his voice. The Angel's eyes were still fixed on his hands, which were tightly clasped in his lap. He spoke softly and Dean had to move closer in order to make out the whispered words.

"The conversion took away our humanity. It warped our very souls. The Grace was something that infected both mind and body. It made us into monsters."

Castiel trailed off and stared at his hands, which were shaking slightly. Dean felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the Angel. He put a hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave him a small shake. The Angel leaned into the touch and Dean pulled back nervously.

"Did you have a choice in the conversion?" Dean asked, trying to find a place to put his hands, which were tingling slightly.

"Yes," Castiel answered, "My brother and I were Hunters. When Gabriel heard about the new upgrade, he jumped at the opportunity and roped me into it."

"What was it like?"

"Painful, very painful."

"Sorry."

"Thank you," Castiel said.

He looked up at Dean and Dean found himself staring at those amazing blue eyes. They burned with an unnatural light in the dream. Dean could only describe it as beautiful. He let his eyes travel over Castiel's face. As he did so he realized that he could see the difference in Castiel. There was almost a sort of power that surrounded him, coming from the very core of the Angel. If Dean looked long enough he could almost see it, a sort of haze around Castiel, like a kind of heat.

Dean's eyes slipped down to Castiel's lips and he had to stop himself form leaning forward and capturing them with his own. He blinked a few times and breathed. He must be going crazy. This Angel must have some sort of power over him, because he'd never felt this way before, and it was starting to scare him.

"Dean." Castiel's low voice brought Dean out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," Dean breathed. He swallowed and then asked, "How did you get in my dream?"

"Michael. He created the dream solely for the purpose of killing you. He went to great lengths, even tricking you into believing that it was reality."

"Well he sounds like a real dick," Dean said.

"He can be... abrasive at times," Castiel replied.

Dean raised an eyebrow and then said, "Another thing, Chuck told me about a blade that could hurt you guys."

"An Angel blade," Castiel corrected, "They were meant to be a weapon in the dream state, but after Lucifer turned, they were modified to kill us."

A silver blade suddenly appeared in Castiel's hands. He held it up for Dean to see. It was a short blade, shining silver from hilt to tip, which was dangerously sharp.

Dean reached a hand out to it, "May I?"

Castiel handed the blade to Dean without hesitation and Dean took it gingerly. He realized that Castiel had just willingly handed Dean the weapon that could kill him. Either this Angel was stupid as hell, or he didn't care if Dean suddenly plunged the blade through his chest.

Of course, Dean had no intention of doing so. He merely examined the blade, turning it over in his fingers. He ran his thumb down the notch in the center of the blade. The blade, like Castiel, seemed to hold some sort of power. Dean could feel it in the weapon as he weighed it in his hand.

He tested the end of the blade with his thumb, pulling away quickly as he felt the sharp metal slide into his skin.

"Defiantly works," he said, handing the blade back to Castiel.

He sucked on his thumb, drawing the blood off it, which was coming faster than he'd anticipated. The Angel blade was damn sharp.

Suddenly Castiel was gripping his wrist. Castiel pulled Dean's hand from of his mouth and took it in his. Dean watched as Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated. His hand began to feel warm and then the skin was healing itself. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean's thumb. He drew his own thumb across the new skin and gave a satisfied nod before releasing Dean's hand.

"Uh, thanks," Dean mumbled, staring at his thumb.

Castiel gave Dean a smile, and Dean's stomach flipped. Dammit. He needed to get a grip on himself. But Castiel's smile was just amazing. It was just a small smile, and Dean had a sudden urge to find a way to make Castiel smile for real, because he had a feeling that that smile could light up a whole room.

"So what now?" Dean asked, trying to stop from staring at Castiel.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked.

"What do we do now? I mean you're supposed to kill me right? And I'm kinda supposed to find a way to kill you."

"Do you want to kill me?"

"No," Dean said honestly.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed and he said with resolution, "I don't want to kill you either."

"So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise, and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?"

"I don't see a point in hurling ourselves over that cliff," Castiel mused, looking out at the ocean, "And I don't know any Thelma or Louise."

"Never mind."

Dean sat further back in his seat, letting his eyes wander over the coastline. He honestly didn't know what to do know. It wasn't like he could just team up with Castiel. He wasn't even sure what he was fighting against? Was it Lucifer? Michael? He understood that the Angels were trying to kill him and the rest of the Hunters, but which garrison should he be worrying about.

"Is Lucifer trying to kill Hunters too?" Dean asked.

"I assume so," Castiel replied.

"So why don't we just team up with your garrison and take him out?"

"We can't just kill Lucifer. That wouldn't solve anything. He is not the core of the problem. It's the fact that my brethren believe you to be the enemy, which is not the case."

"Well what do you want to do then? Cause I sure as hell aint letting you kill me, and I'm not gonna waste you either."

Castiel bit his lip in thought. "I don't know. I could try reasoning with Michael, but I don't think he wants peace. He seems to be under the impression that he is above you and that you deserve to be destroyed."

"Why?"

"Again I don't know. I just follow his orders."

"You don't have to, you know. You didn't kill me."

"But I should have. I was ordered to kill you, and I disobeyed. I'm disobeying right now."

"And what is Michael gonna do about it? You don't have to do everything you're told, Cas."

As soon as Dean had said "Cas" he felt his cheeks go hot. He'd already given this Angel a nickname. This was not going well. It was even worse that Castiel visibly brightened at the shortened version of his name.

"Anyway," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "All I'm saying is that you don't always have to be the obedient little soldier. You can make your own choices."

"Like not killing you?"

"Yeah, that'd be a good choice."

Castiel smiled and said softly, "I like you, Dean."

Dean let out a little giggle and then instantly regretted it because he sounded like a lovesick teenager. He cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, you're not so bad for an Angel. I thought that you guys were all dicks."

"Oh," Castiel replied. He looked confused for a second but then said, "I'm glad I am no longer a dick in your eyes, Dean."

Dean laughed because that was just a ridiculous sentence. Castiel watched him with confusion and Dean patted the Angel on the leg saying, "Sorry, I just haven't laughed in a long time."

Dean wiped tears from his eyes and shook his head. He gave Castiel a big smile, which the Angel returned. They spent a few minutes in silence as Dean caught his breath. Dean looked over at Castiel, who was watching him with mild interest. Castiel blinked slowly and Dean stared, because it was strangely arousing to watch this Angel blink, the way his long lashes swept down and up again, revealing his glowing eyes, the blue bright in the dark of the Impala.

Dean suddenly realized that the sun had set completely, leaving him and Castiel in a darkness illuminated only by the glowing dash of the Impala. The glow cast strange shadows over Castiel's face. Dean let his eyes followed a particular shadow that was cast over Castiel's jaw. Dean found himself staring at Castiel's lips again and he was so close to just leaning over in the darkness and...

His thoughts were cut off by Castiel who suddenly jerked around nervously. The Angel looked out at the dark sea and then back to Dean with wide eyes, the blue shining through the darkness.

"I have to go," he said, voice laced with nervousness.

"Uh, okay," Dean stuttered.

Castiel's bright eyes locked with Dean's and he asked, "Can we speak again?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied.

"Good," Castiel breathed, "Is here okay? He motioned to the car.

Dean nodded and Castiel said quickly, "Tomorrow night."

"It's a date," Dean replied, before realizing what he actually said.

Castiel smiled mischievously and then said, "I'm buying."

Dean had to stare and then stare some more, because Castiel punctuated it with a wink before he disappeared. That familiar whooshing sound filled the car and Dean swore he could feel the brush of feathers against his skin and then he was alone.

He opened the door of the Impala and let the cool night air beat against his skin. It felt wonderful, even better than it did in real life. Sometimes he wondered how dreams could feel better than reality. It probably had to do with being a Hunter, with having the ability to create dreams and control them.

Dean took a deep breath and stepped over to the ledge. The dark water lapped at the base of the cliff, churning foam against the rocks that stuck out above the waves. Dean edged closer to the end of the cliff. He had to end the dream. He could do it quickly with the gun in the Impala, but he was feeling dangerous.

He stood on the edge of the cliff, the toes of his boots sticking out over the rocky face. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, then he leaned forward and let himself fall.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke long before he hit the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. It was the typical falling dream, which meant a jolt of a wake up and a few heart palpitations. He breathed deeply and then lay there, letting his mind wander back to the conversation with Castiel.

Castiel had been assigned to kill him, but he'd let him live because he'd had doubts. At least Castiel seemed to be on Dean's side, which was good. But the other Angels were after him. If Castiel had been assigned to Dean, then who knew if there were Angels on the trail of Jo or Ash, or Sam.

There was a banging against the door or Dean's quarters. Dean got up slowly and stepped to the door. He opened it a crack to see Garth staring at him.

"You gotta come see this," Garth said, his voice strained as though he'd been running.

Dean shouldered his way past Garth, heading for the main room. Garth trailed at his heels, trying to keep up with Dean's quick gait. Dean burst into the room to find Ash at his computer. He gave Dean a look and took a long drink of his beer before speaking.

"Finally decided to join us. Bout time."

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Sector 12. Be prepared for bullshit. Bullshit and Jo."

Ash waved his hand dismissively and Dean stormed out of the room. "Talk to me, Garth," he said angrily as they made their way to Sector12.

"It's Jo," Garth explained, "She found an Angel."

Dean stopped so suddenly that Garth bumped into him. "What?" he nearly screamed, mind instantly going to Castiel.

"She has him tied up and everything. Apparently they aren't as invincible as we thought. She's been trying to get information from him, but he's just screaming."

Dean didn't stay to hear the rest of Garth's explanation. He was running as fast as his legs could take him, because what if Jo had Castiel? If that was the case Dean was going to kill her, because he wasn't going to let Castiel get hurt while he was around.

The iron door to Sector 12 was slightly ajar and Dean burst past it, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he rammed into it. The room was empty aside from two people. Jo and an Angel who was strapped to a chair, but it wasn't Castiel. This Angel was young, very young, dressed in a ridiculous red and white striped outfit. A tag was pinned to his chest that read "Weiner Hut" He was handsome, sandy haired, with wide blue eyes that had fear in them as he struggled against his bonds.

Jo noticed Dean and looked up from the knife she was currently sharpening. Her eyes were hardened and she gave Dean a challenging look before slamming the knife down into the Angel's hand, between the bones. The Angel screamed and writhed in the chair.

"What the hell, Jo!" Dean yelled.

He pushed her out of the way and pulled the knife from the Angel's skin. The Angel looked up at Dean with wide eyes and Dean gave him a remorseful look. Dean didn't know how to describe this Angel other than innocent. The way that the large eyes swept around the room, the little quiver of the boy's bottom lip as he turned his eyes back on Dean, a silent plea for help in the soft blue.

"Dammit," Dean breathed.

He began to untie the Angel, but Jo grabbed his wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What the hell were _you_ doing?" Dean said angrily.

"I was trying to get information about the things that put Sam into that coma and killed Jess!"

"Yeah, well you're not gonna do it this way."

Dean went to unstrap the Angel, but Jo pushed him away. She stepped in front of the Angel, and crossed her arms. "You don't understand, Dean. These things are much more than we thought." She pointed at the Angel, "He can heal himself. Everything I've tried on him doesn't work. He just heals back up."

"I know," Dean mumbled.

"You what?"

"Listen Jo, I know what you think these guys are, but I think you may be wrong."

"Wrong?" Jo looked at Dean with disbelief, "Dean did something happen? Yesterday you would have killed an Angel without even thinking, and now you're defending them?"

"Maybe I am."

"Why?"

Dean looked down at his boots. He couldn't tell Jo about Castiel, he couldn't have her find out that he was trying to get an ally in Castiel, that he couldn't get the Angel out of his head.

"I just think we jumped the gun on this one, that's all."

"So what now you're on their side?"

"No. But I think we might have the sides confused."

Jo put her hands on her hips. "And how do you know all this?"

"I've been... researching," Dean lied.

"Oh really? So what, you just popped by the library and checked out a book on Angels?"

Dean didn't reply and Jo said angrily, "I'm not letting him go though." She motioned to the Angel.

"Well then I'm gonna," Dean retorted.

"Like hell you are!" Jo screamed.

She grabbed the knife from where Dean had tossed it and brandished it at Dean. Dean sighed. "You don't want to do this, Jo. It doesn't have to be this way."

"Yeah it does, cause I'm not just gonna stand around while we're killed like ants by these things."

She punctuated "things" with a jab of the knife at the Angel, the blade swiping across his cheek and drawing a thin line of blood. The Angel hissed in pain and Jo looked defiantly back at Dean.

"Guys, let's just take a step back," Garth said, trying to step between Dean and Jo.

"Fuck off, Garth," Jo hissed.

Garth jumped back as Jo pointed the knife at him. "Just calm down, Jo," Dean said, putting his hands up.

Jo shook her head. "No. I won't! And I'm not going to let you ruin our chances at finding a way to beat these bastards!"

Dean jumped her, grabbing her wrist and holding the knife away from his face. Jo was strong, but not nearly as strong at Dean. Dean wrangled the knife from her grip and turned Jo so that she was stuck in his grasp.

"Let me go! You don't understand!" she screamed.

Dean grunted in pain as Jo elbowed him in the ribs hard and then kicked his shin. "Dammit, Jo," Dean growled.

He somehow managed to get the syringe from out of his pocket. He uncapped it with his teeth and jammed it into Jo's arm. She yelped and then went slack in his arms. He scooped her up bridal style and proceeded to carry her back to her quarters, shouting at Garth to keep an eye on the Angel.

He deposited Jo on her sleeping bag and locked the door. She would be out for a few hours, but Dean didn't want to chance anything, not before he figured out what to do with the Angel she had been torturing.

Dean went back to Sector 12 to find Garth staring at the Angel. As soon as Dean entered the room, Garth said, "Thank god. This guy is creeping me out. He's just staring at me."

"Why don't you go get something to eat," Dean suggested, "I'll deal with the Angel."

"Okay," Garth consented.

He walked out of the room quickly, glancing back at the Angel once before disappearing down the hallway. Dean shut the door behind him and then turned to face the Angel. He was watching Dean warily, the blue eyes still wide.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Dean said, going over to him.

He pulled up a stray chair and sat down in it. Reaching out slowly, he untied the Angel's wrists and slipped off the criss-crossed harness that fastened him to the metal chair. The Angel breathed deeply and massaged the bruised skin. Dean watched as the ugly bruises instantly began to heal. He could see that brief expression of pain cross the Angel's face and then he found himself staring at all too familiar blue eyes.

"Dean," Dean said, extending a hand.

The Angel gripped it uncertainly and said softly, "Samandriel."

"Samandriel?" Dean echoed. He shook his head, "Who named you guys. You gotta nickname like Alfie or something?"

Samandriel looked confused. "My brothers just refer to me as Samandriel. I do not understand the necessity for a nickname."

Dean laughed. "You guys really need to get out more."

"You're Dean Winchester," Samandriel asked.

"Guilty as charged."

"My brother Castiel is assigned to you."

"Uh yeah, about that..."

"I know about you and him, about what you've been doing."

"What?" Dean asked, eyes wide.

"You and Castiel have been conspiring against Michael," Samandriel replied, a hint of anger in his voice.

"No," Dean said quickly, "We weren't. We..." he trailed off because he honestly didn't know what he and Castiel were doing.

"You've corrupted him," Samandriel hissed, "Castiel was a good soldier. He followed orders without a doubt, but then he was assigned to you."

"Well I'm sorry that I told him to actually think for a moment," Dean retorted, feeling a sudden wave of anger toward Samandriel.

Samandriel gave him a knowing smile. "It's not just about free will. Too much heart was always Castiel's problem."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should stay away from him," Samandriel ordered.

"Make me," Dean snarled.

Samandriel's eyes narrowed dangerously and then the air billowed around Dean, whooshing past his ears as Samandriel departed. Dean glanced around the empty room and then swore loudly. He needed to talk to Castiel pronto.

He rushed back to his room, checking the time on his watch as he did so. It wasn't even one pm and Castiel had said evening. But Dean couldn't wait, not after the encounter with Samandriel, not with the thought weighing on him that Castiel could be in trouble because of him.

He reached his quarters and shut the door with a bang. He grabbed the case and took out the syringe. Praying that he could get in touch with Castiel, he stuck the needle in his arm and let the drug take him over.

Dean came to in the Impala. This time the car was parked in a lonely field, which was surrounded by a circle of trees. It was late in the afternoon and damn hot.

Dean slipped out of the car, looking around for any sign of Castiel. The field was empty. Dean's stomach clenched with fear. What if the Angels had done something to Castiel? What if he was too late?

"Cas!" he yelled out over the field.

There was no answer and Dean started to get panicky. He called out again and again, running through the grass, frantically checking the sky, the Impala, anywhere that the Angel could be hiding. Just as he was about to give up hope, he heard the sound of wing beats.

Turning around he saw Castiel standing by the Impala, his tan trench coat blowing slightly in the warm wind that had sprung up. Before Dean could stop himself, he was scooping Castiel up in a huge hug, gripping the Angel tightly. He could feel Castiel tense at the touch, and then relax, arms coming to wind around Dean, holding him just as tightly. When Dean finally pulled back he kept his hands on Castiel's shoulders in order to make sure that the Angel wasn't going anywhere.

"Where have you been?" Dean asked.

"I don't understand," Castiel replied, eyebrows drawn together.

"We gotta talk."

Dean grabbed Castiel by the hand and dragged him back to the Impala. Dean hopped up on the hood of the car and motioned for Castiel to do the same. The Angel did so, sitting so close to Dean that their sides were touching.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Castiel asked, concerned.

"I met Samandriel," Dean said quickly, "He told me that he thinks we're conspiring against Michael."

Castiel's eyes went wide and he glanced around saying, "We shouldn't be talking about this out in the open. Michael could be listening in."

"But that's just it," Dean yelled, "he and the rest of your buddies already know about what we've been doing. They know about our dream speak and the fact that you are disobeying orders."

"We used the sigils though," Castiel commented, "They shouldn't know."

"Well they do and I have a feeling that Samandriel is busy bitching to Michael right now."

Castiel sighed. "Samandriel was always loyal. But I doubt he would go straight to Michael, especially not about me. I am his superior."

"So how much time do we have?"

"I'm not sure," Castiel replied, "But we need to meet in reality, these dreams aren't safe."

"Okay, sounds good. Wait. No. Bad. You can't meet me in reality. My friends are trying to kill you guys."

"But we can't talk here, Dean. We have to meet."

"Well then it's gonna hafta be in some shitty motel off an unknown interstate, cause you sure as hell can't come to my base."

"That sounds fine. Just give me a location and I'll be there."

Dean glanced over at Castiel. The Angel had a look in his eyes that meant war. "Cas," Dean asked slowly, "Do you want to overthrow Michael?" Castiel quickly looked away from Dean's eyes. "Cas?" Dean prompted.

"I'm not sure," Castiel replied, "I just wish that there was a way for us to coexist without ripping each other's throats out."

"Well then that's what we're doing," Dean said, gripping Castiel's shoulder, "We're fighting for peace between us. It's not impossible. I mean look at us!"

Castiel raised his eyes slowly to meet Dean's and Dean gave him a huge grin, which Castiel returned, and this time Dean could tell it was a real smile. It was almost hypnotizing. Castiel smiled with his top teeth, his lips pulled back into a wide grin that made his eyes crinkle a bit. The whole picture made Dean just smile bigger.

He bumped his shoulder against Castiel's and said, "Century Motel. It's right outside Kansas City. Late. Say one am."

"Sounds good," Castiel replied.

He went silent and looked up into the clear blue sky which matched his eyes, minus the glow of the dream state of course. A bee hummed lazily past and Dean leaned back against the car, basking in the warmth of the summer heat he'd created in this dream.

Castiel fidgeted beside him and Dean asked, "You got someplace to be?"

"No. I was just trying to decipher what my brethren are saying."

"How do you mean?"

"We can communicate with each other through thought."

"Like Angel radio?"

"Yes, something like that." Castiel put a finger to his temple and concentrated. "They don't seem to know about Samandriel. Michael is a bit preoccupied at the moment."

"Good," Dean breathed, "Gives us more time."

Castiel didn't reply, but Dean could feel the Angel lay back on the windshield. Dean glanced over at him. Castiel's eyes were closed and he appeared to be simply enjoying the warmth and serenity of the dream they were in. Dean tore his eyes away from Castiel as his mind wandered again. He stretched his arms and then instantly regretted doing so as he let his hand fall back down, right over Castiel's.

"Shit, sorry man," he said quickly, pulling his hand away.

"It's fine," Castiel said softly. He opened one eye and looked at Dean. "You did say this was a date."

Dean's mouth went dry. Castiel just smiled and turned to watch a bee that was hovering lazily past the Impala. Dean took a chance and intertwined his fingers with Castiel's tugging slightly at the Angel's hand. Castiel raised an eyebrow, but Dean could see a small smile on the Angel's lips.

"You gotta curfew?" Dean joked, tightening his hand around Castiel's.

Castiel shook his head and grinned. He flipped onto his side and regarded Dean through bright eyes. Dean winked at him and Castiel's smiled. Dean cleared his throat and said, "So do you Angels leave time for things aside from wasting people in dreams? Like you gotta girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

Castiel raised their clasped hands with a, "Why? You trying to make them jealous?"

"Just wanna know what I'm up against."

He gave Castiel another smile, practically brimming with nervous energy. He didn't expect Castiel to be so receptive to him, but damn was he enjoying this, being able to lie in the summer heat with Castiel at his side. He'd only known the Angel for a few days, hell hours, but this just felt right for reasons he couldn't explain.

He turned so that they were facing each other and then jerked a bit, because Castiel had scooted closer to him. He could see every detail of Castiel's skin, the stubble that lined his jaw, the slight creases in his forehead, how long his eyelashes were as they swept down and up again. Castiel's lips parted in a tiny smile and Dean leaned closer so that his breath mingled with Castiel's. He could do it, if he were to just lean forward a bit more...

Castiel beat him to it, pressing his lips against Dean's in a chaste kiss. Dean sagged into Castiel, reveling in the feeling of the Angel's lips on his own. They were slightly chapped, but entirely wonderful. Dean applied a bit more pressure and let himself get lost in Castiel. It was a sort of catharsis, he was able to just let it all go for once, Sam, the imminent war with the Angels, everything. He could just get lost in this moment, in the feel of Castiel's dirty trench coat grasped tightly in hands.

But then Castiel was pulling back. Dean tried to chase his lips with his own, but the Angel shook his head. "I can't. Not yet."

Dean sighed and then let go of Castiel's coat. He understood, this was too soon. Hell, they'd practically just met, and there were thousands of things that they needed to be focusing on.

He nodded and leaned forward to place a kiss on the corner of Castiel's mouth, whispering, "Later. Promise?"

"Yes," Castiel breathed against Dean's lips.

He pressed his forehead against Dean's and both of them breathed deeply. Then warm air rushed past Dean and Castiel was gone, leaving Dean alone on the hot hood of the Impala.

This time, Dean used the gun in the glove department, the shot echoing into the sky.

* * *

Dean woke slowly, blinking in the dull light of his quarters. He closed his eyes again, sighing deeply. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to deal with Jo, or Ash, or anyone. He just wanted to go back to that field, to the feel of Castiel's lips on his, to being able to forget it all for a bit.

He remembered the first part of their conversation and he quickly glanced at his watch. It was almost five pm. He needed to leave by seven if he wanted to meet Castiel at Century Motel by one. That meant two hours to deal with Jo.

Dean met Garth in the hall as he made the trek to Jo's room. "What happed with the Angel?" Garth asked, falling into stride beside Dean.

"He got away," Dean said quickly.

"And what happened to_ you_ for past three hours?"

" The Angel banged me up a bit. I took a breather," Dean lied. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Garth that he had been swapping spit with another Angel.

They reached the door to Jo's quarters and Dean swiped the key across the detector. The door opened with a click and Dean pushed it inwards, shutting it behind him. Jo was seated in the middle of the room, her back to the peeling wall. She looked up at Dean as he entered and then back at her shoes as she saw who it was.

"Calmed down?" Dean asked her, leaning against the door.

"No," Jo spat.

Dean pursed his lips and said, "Angel got away."

"Cause you let him go!" Jo yelled angrily.

"Yeah I did. And I don't regret it one bit. Because you know what, Jo, you're wrong about them."

"What's happened to you?" Jo asked, "I thought you wanted to get rid of the Angels. After what they did to Sam."

"Well I was wrong," Dean retorted, "Since when do you care so much about my problems, Jo? And another thing, back with that Angel, I've never seen you like that."

"I was doing it for you, Dean!" Jo yelled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, "I was doing it for you and Sam! Sam may be gone, but we can still avenge him!"

"Sam is not gone and don't you ever say that again!" Dean screamed at her.

She went silent and looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. Dean sighed, "I'm sorry, Jo. It's just, I think we need to give these guys time, do some more research on them, that's all."

"But they killed Jess! They killed her and you just want to let them go?"

"I want to give them the benefit of the doubt! We're not killers, Jo. What would your mom think of this, huh? You think she'd want to become a murderer?"

"No," Jo said softly.

She put her face in her hands an Dean could see her body move with the force of her small sobs. He stepped forward and sank down beside her, pulling her into a tight hug. She buried her face in his jacket and he could feel her tears soak his t-shirt. He knew bringing up Ellen would get Jo to see reason.

Ellen and Jo had had a falling out a few months back over Jo's wanting to be a Hunter. She had left to go with Dean and Sam and it had about broken Ellen's heart. Even though Jo didn't want to admit it, she was still pretty torn up about it too.

"Hey," Dean whispered, running his fingers through Jo's hair, "It's gonna be okay."

He placed a kiss to her forehead and she sniffed loudly before saying, "I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know, and listen to me when I say that we're gonna get through this. We're gonna find a way to bring Sam back. Everything's gonna turn out alright. You'll see."

He gave her a reassuring smile and Jo wiped the tears from her cheeks. She leaned into Dean's embrace and Dean stroked his thumbs over her forearms. She moved so that she could look at Dean and Dean was surprised when she leaned up and pressed her lips against his.

He didn't respond and she pulled away, looking at him with wide, wondering eyes. He loosened his grip on her and tried to find the words to explain to her why this wouldn't work. She kissed him again, harder this time and he pushed her away.

"I'm sorry, Jo," he said, looking down at his hands, "I just can't."

"It's cool," she said quickly. Then she blushed and mumbled, "Sorry. I'll just go."

She got up and left the room, pushing past Garth, who looked at Dean with a confused expression. Dean rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He'd always known Jo had a bit of a crush on him, but he had never returned the feeling, and now with Castiel, well, he didn't exactly think of himself as available at the moment, even though he and Castiel weren't exactly a thing, yet.

"You okay, bro?" Garth asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, fine. I just need to take a drive. Clear my head." He stood up and brushed past Garth, saying, "Don't wait up for me."

He packed a small overnight bag, which he plopped in the back of his Impala. He had a few extra minutes before he had to go, which he used to find his Led Zepplin cassette tape. Upon finding it, he popped it in, and then turned the volume up so that "Traveling Riverside Blues" was blasting through the stereo.

He rammed the key into the ignition and cranked it, smiling as his baby purred into life. Damn did he love this car. He slipped on his sunglasses and pulled out from the warehouse, the easy tunes of Led Zepplin vibrating off the leather of the seats.

* * *

Dean arrived at Century Motel a little after midnight. He got a room on the bottom floor, parking the Impala near the door, just in case he needed a quick getaway for whatever reason. He spent the rest of the time sitting on the single bed in the room. It was a rather boring room, with a fridge and a sink and a crappy television that only had one channel, not that he was planning on watching any tv. In truth, he was rather hoping to get some action with Castiel in real life. Dream kissing was fine and all, but he wanted to really taste this Angel, to run his hands through that messy hair and maybe even get to second or even third base.

He shook his head as his mind wandered to dangerous territory. He couldn't believe he was actually thinking about that, or for that fact, that it might actually be possible in the future if Castiel like him as much as he liked the Angel.

The minutes till one ticked by slowly as Dean watched the clock anxiously. Some show called Dr. Sexy was playing and Dean was trying not to get roped into it, cause it was actually kind of entertaining. He was just starting another episode when there was a knock on the door.

Dean's heartbeat instantly sped up as he jumped from the bed. He walked over and looked out of the peephole. Castiel stood outside, glancing nervously down the hallway of the motel. Dean wrenched the door open and pulled the Angel inside.

He took a moment to really look at Castiel, because this was real life not a dream. Castiel looked like he did in the dream state, minus the iris glowing. There was something else though, something real about the smile that Castiel gave Dean.

"Hey, Cas," Dean grinned.

"Hello Dean," Castiel said cheerfully. He looked Dean up and down and commented, "You seem taller in reality."

Dean laughed. "Thanks."

Castiel looked around the motel room and his nose crinkled distastefully, "I prefer your Impala. This seems..."

"Like a shitty motel room," Dean finished. "Newsflash buddy, it is. But," he pulled they keys to the Impala out of his pocket, "the good news is that we don't have to stay in it."

"Are you going to take me out for a night on the town?" Castiel said cheekily.

"Only if you let me buy," Dean replied with a smile.

Ten minutes later he and Castiel were seated at a booth inside a small dinner down the street from the motel. Dean browsed the menu while Castiel played with the wrapper of a straw. Dean watched the Angel out of the corner of his eye. He seemed a bit nervous, glancing toward the door every now and then.

"Hey," Dean said, leaning forward, "They're not here. It's just us and the mega bacon burger that I'm about to order." He passed the menu to Castiel. "You want anything."

Castiel pointed to a picture of a chocolate milkshake on the front of the menu. "That. But with extra whipped cream."

Dean smiled. "Sounds good."

He flagged down a waitress and ordered. While they waited Dean asked Castiel about his family.

"Gabriel is my actual brother," Castiel answered, absentmindedly fiddling with the peeling edge of the table, "The other Angels are my brothers in arms, although I am very close to a few of them."

"They feel the same way bout you?" Dean asked.

"I suppose so. Although I'm not sure. They are all loyal to Michael, I doubt they'd be too supportive of my dealings with you."

"Well they're missing out," Dean said, shifting so that he could play with the sleeve of Castiel's trench coat

He slipped his fingers into the sleeve and brushed two of them over the underside of Castiel's wrist. The Angel visibly shuddered and Dean could feel his pulse quicken under his thin skin. Dean continued his exploration, moving his fingers up Castiel's arm, sliding the coat up in the process. Castiel hissed through his teeth as Dean stroked the inside of his elbow.

Dean pulled his hand back and Castiel gasped out, "Sorry. I'm just really sensitive. Another joy of being an Angel. Hyper sensitivity. It's a real pain in the ass sometimes, although it's not as pronounced in the dream state."

"I'm gonna file that away for further use," Dean said with a wink. Castiel eyed him and Dean asked, "So which side is Gabe on? Lucifer's? Michael's?"

"Neither," Castiel replied, pulling his sleeve down self consciously, "He refused to side with either of them. I haven't seen him since Lucifer rebelled. Although I'm sure he's perfectly fine, most likely hiding out with a bag of lollipops."

"Lollipops?"

"Gabriel always had a bit of a sweet tooth."

Dean smiled and inquired, "Were you close to him?"

Castiel shrugged. "I guess. We used to hunt together. Gabriel was something of a genius when it came to creating dreams. He's even better now after the conversion."

"Well let's hope that if he does decide to get off his ass and do something that he's on our side."

Castiel nodded and looked up at the waitress who had brought their food. She set down a monster of a burger in front of Dean and for Castiel, a milkshake piled high with whipped cream . Dean thanked her and then asked an extra straw, which she gave him with a glance toward Castiel. Dean ignored her and unsheathed the straw.

He stuck it in Castiel's milkshake and took a big slurp. He smacked his lips appreciatively. "That is damn good."

Castiel took the glass in his hands and brought it to his lips. He took a long sip and then looked up at Dean with a happy smile on his lips. Dean laughed, because Castiel had whipped cream all over his face. Dean glanced over at the waitress and then leaned forward to kiss Castiel's cream covered mouth.

His tongue darted out to lick the sweet cream off the corner of Castiel's lips and Castiel shifted in his seat. Dean saw his eyes flutter closed though and he could feel the little release of air against his lips as Castiel sighed. Dean sat back in his seat and Castiel opened his eyes slowly, a dazed look on his face. Dean just smiled and tucked into his bacon burger.

Castiel sipped at his milkshake as he glanced around the diner. Every couple of minutes Dean would lean forward and take a sip from the second straw in the shake. Castiel swatted him away after Dean had drunk nearly half the shake. Dean just made a face and then dipped a fry into the shake when Castiel was looking over at a woman sitting at a table on the other side of the diner.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, leaning close to the Hunter.

"Mmm?" Dean said around a mouthful of burger.

Castiel pointed to the woman. "She was on the bus that I took to get here."

"You were on a bus?"

"Yes. I didn't think it wise to use my abilities to materialize in your motel room, just in case Michael was looking for me."

The woman looked up from her salad and gave Castiel a look. She was short with brown hair that fell down over the leather jacket she was dressed in. She was chewing her salad slowly, watching Dean and Castiel out of the corner of her eye.

"Is she one of you guys?" Dean asked.

"No. I've never seen her before."

The woman gave Castiel a wink and Dean said, "Just ignore her."

Castiel looked down at his shake, stirring the straw around in the ice cream. Dean kicked his foot under the table. "Forget about her. She probably just likes you and followed you here to see if she could get some Cas."

"I don't want her to have any of me," Castiel said innocently, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Dean smiled and leaned closer to Castiel. "Don't worry. She's not gonna get any, not while I'm around."

He placed a hard kiss to Castiel's mouth, pushing the Angel back into the booth a bit. Castiel's hands gripped the table tightly, knuckles white. Dean grinned against Castiel's lips and pulled back, taking care to glare at the woman as he slumped back down in his seat.

She was unfazed, still chewing away at her salad, but Dean caught the waitress staring at him. He called her over and she looked genuinely terrified, but he merely asked her to bring him a slice of pie. She hurried away quickly and Dean turned his attention back to Castiel, who was still watching the woman.

Dean snapped his fingers in Castiel's face. "Earth to Cas."

Castiel jumped. He blinked at Dean. "Sorry. I'm just a bit distracted. Did you ask for pie?"

Dean nodded. "Nothing beats a good slice of pie. You gonna want some?"

"No. I still have some milkshake left."

"Your loss," Dean said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as the waitress placed a plate of apple pie in front of him.

He tucked in, moaning appreciation with each bite. He heard a noise and looked up at Castiel. The angel's eyes were closed tightly and he was gripping his glass tightly. Dean raised an eyebrow at him when his eyes fluttered open.

Castiel went a bit red, cleared his throat and said, "Can you not make those noises, Dean?

"What this?"

Dean took a slow bite of the pie, sliding the fork out of his mouth agonizingly slowly. He groaned and licked the crumbs off his bottom lip, keeping his eyes fixed on Castiel. The Angel had a look of pure horror on his face and he shifted uncomfortable in the booth. Dean noticed the blue eyes flick downward and then back up at Dean, color coming into Castiel's pale cheeks.

Dean nearly choked on his pie. He swallowed and asked, "Dude do you have a boner?"

"Uh, no," Castiel said quickly, looking anywhere but Dean, breathing slowly through his nose.

Dean laughed loudly and Castiel hissed, "It's not funny Dean. I told you not to eat like that."

Smiling, Dean replied, "Damn. Sorry man. It's just you look like you've never had a boner before."

"I don't usually have to worry about things like this," Castiel said, shifting again.

Dean waved his fork at Castiel. "I swear man, you're all work no play. I'm gonna change that though."

"Can you just finish your pie," Castiel said through gritted teeth.

"Bathroom's that way if you wanna take care of it," Dean said, pointing to the back of the restaurant.

Castiel slid out of the booth and hobbled to the bathroom, very aware of Dean's eyes on his ass. Dean chuckled to himself as the Angel gave him an angry glare before shutting the door to the restroom. Dean finished his pie, running a finger along the edge of the plate to pick up any extra crumbs. He was in the process of sucking the crumbs from his fingers when Castiel came out of the bathroom. Dean quickly took his pointer finger from his mouth, lest he cause another problem for the Angel, not that he wasn't enjoying the way Castiel was reacting to him.

Castiel didn't sit back down. He motioned to Dean's empty plate. "Now that you're finished, can we please leave?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied.

He pulled out his wallet and put a couple of bills on the table. Castiel was already at the door, holding it open for Dean and closing it behind the Hunter as they made their way back to the Impala. Castiel was walking quite quickly and Dean had to break into a small jog in order to keep up with him.

The woman with the salad watched until they were out of sight and then she pulled out a cell phone, dialing a number and holding it to her ear, waiting for the voice at the other end.

"Did you find him?" the smooth English voice crooned from the phone.

"Yeah," the woman replied.

"And?"

"He's with one of Michael's angels. Although they didn't do anything. Just flirted and whatnot. Really disgusting, actually. I hope you know what I have to sit through in order to get this info for you."

"Tell that to the boss, bitch."

"Now let's not be mean," the woman sneered, leaning back in her chair, "Besides. I don't think this Winchester will be any good. He's got it bad for this Angel and I don't think he'll be too interested in joining our cause."

"This Winchester? I thought he was the only one."

The woman smiled to herself. "Nope. Little miss princess has a younger brother."

She paused and the man on the phone asked, "And?"

"He's sorta indisposed," she answered, "Got himself in a dream coma or something. But I'm sure the big man could find a way to wake him up."

"What's your hurry man?" Dean asked as they walked down the hallway to Dean's room.

"I just wanted to get somewhere private," Castiel replied, watching as Dean unlocked the room.

"Why?"

"That woman was bothering me."

"God Cas you gotta learn to just ignore people," Dean chided, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind Castiel.

"There was something about her though," Castiel said, "I can't put my finger on what it was."

"She was just some random chick. Forget about her." Dean pointed to a chair that was next to the bed. "Sit. We need to talk."

Castiel slumped down in the chair as Dean sat on the edge of the bed. Dean laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees as he said, "We gotta do something about this whole 'my boys wanna gank your boys' thing."

"And what exactly do you propose we do?" Castiel asked, crossing his arms.

"I don't know! You think we could reason with Michael?"

Castiel shook his head. "I doubt it. Michael is very resolute in his beliefs. It would be very difficult to convince him otherwise."

"Okay, so then do we gank Michael?"

"Michael is an Archangel, Dean. He's much more powerful than I am, than _any_ of the other Angels are."

"An Archangel? What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a higher class of Angel, more powerful. The Grace serum was reformatted, given an extra boost if you will. The result was the Archangel. Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Lucifer all did the upgrade."

"Whoa, Gabe is an Archangel?"

"Yes, although he doesn't act like one, didn't that is. He is very powerful, but he chooses to ignore that power for some reason that I do not understand."

"Hey, let the guy do whatever, one less thing I have to deal with, although," Dean pointed a finger at Castiel, "what if we got Gabe on our side? That would give us a better chance against Michael and the other archdicks, right?"

"Perhaps," Castiel mused.

"At least it's a start. You got any idea where he might be?"

"I should be able to find him if I look hard enough," Castiel replied, "But it might take a while."

"Well don't start tonight," Dean said, stretching. He checked the time on the clock by the bedside, "Dammit it's not even three yet."

"You should get some sleep," Castiel told him.

Dean looked over at him, "And what are you going to do?"

"I'll just sit here."

"Really?"

"Yes. I don't require much sleep and I can watch over you."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not having you watch me while I sleep like some sort of pervert. You're either gonna sleep too, or we're gonna stay up and talk some more."

"But you're tired, Dean. Your body needs rest."

"God Cas, I swear..." Dean took a deep breath and crossed his arms. He was silent for a few moments, but then he had a sudden thought.

He slid off the bed slowly and went over to the chair where Castiel was. He put his hands on the Angel's shoulders and leaned down so that he could whisper in his ear, "You know, Cas.  
We could do something else to pass the time."

To mark his point, he slipped one hand under the collar of Castiel's Oxford, running his fingers over Castiel's collarbone, while his lips remained near the Angel's ear. He could feel Castiel shudder at his touch and rasp out, "Dean, I..."

"Just say yes, Cas," Dean breathed against Castiel's neck, lips trailing over the skin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I took so long with updating! I'll try to update regularly again. This is where the M rating kicks in, and Sam wakes up. This story gets a lot more plot after this chapter. Hope you guys like it.**

* * *

"Just say yes, Cas," Dean breathed against Castiel's neck, lips trailing over the skin.

Castiel arched up at the light kisses and Dean could hear a moan slip from his lips. That was enough of an answer for him. He grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat and pulled him from the chair forcefully. The Angel's eyes went a bit wide, but he let Dean drag him over to the bed and push him down upon it.

Dean watched Castiel lying there and he felt a twinge of guilt, because he was definitely rushing things, and it was obvious that Castiel hadn't done this sort of thing before. Castiel looked up at him expectantly and Dean gave in. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over the Angel. Castiel watched him with wide eyes, pupils slightly dilated, which was good sign in Dean's mind. He wanted this like he needed air, but he also wanted Cas to want it.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against Castiel's, noting the little intake of breath from the Angel. Slowly he pressed his lips against Castiel's in a chaste kiss that left butterflies in his stomach. He was surprised when the Angel's hands wound around him, fingers carding through his short hair, bringing him closer. Dean's tongue slipped out to brush against the seam of Castiel's lips and the Angel opened for him, letting Dean's curious tongue plunge into his mouth. Dean ran it along Castiel's teeth and gums, really tasting the Angel, letting his mind and senses fill up with the sensation of Cas.

The Angel made a tiny sound in the back of his throat and then Dean felt Castiel's tongue slide against his. Dean's hips bucked against Castiel's at the contact and it urged the Angel on. Dean forgot how to breathe for a moment as Castiel ground their hips together, creating a friction that made Dean's head spin.

He pulled away so that he could start at the task of removing the layers of clothing that were becoming quite a hindrance. He started with Castiel's tie, pulling him close and running his lips down the stubble at Castiel's jaw as he slid the knot loose and yanked the fabric over the Angel's head. Castiel gasped as Dean slipped his hands under the material of his suit, palms cool against the heated skin of Castiel's neck and back. Castiel moved so that he could help Dean take off the suit and Oxford, eventually flinging them away along with the trench coat. Castiel's quick fingers pulled Dean's jacket off and then yanked the Hunter's t-shirt over his head.

They took a moment to breathe and then Dean was surging forward to crash their lips together again. He pushed Castiel back onto the mattress as he assaulted the Angel's mouth with his own. Castiel writhed beneath Dean, trying to find a place to put his hands, settling for gripping Dean's shoulders tightly as Dean moved his mouth down to the Angel's neck, mouthing at the pronounced sinews and muscles.

Dean traced his tongue over Castiel's sharp collarbones and then further down, dipping into his navel and making Castiel cry out. The Angel fisted a hand into Dean's hair, yanking slightly as Dean nipped at the top of his hipbone. Dean fingers slipped into the waistband of Castiel's pants and he yanked them down as far as the belt would allow. Castiel gasped out as Dean's fingers brushed over his crotch as the Hunter slipped off the belt, throwing it behind him before yanking the pants off all the way.

Dean ran his hands along Castiel's sides, brushing over the strained muscles. He teased Castiel with a quick swipe of his thumb over the bulge in the Angel's boxers. Castiel hissed and groaned, "Please, Dean."

"What was that?" Dean growled, making his way back up Castiel's body.

Castiel looked up at him with blown pupils and whined, "Dean."

Dean grinned and placed a kiss to the corner of Castiel's open mouth as he let his hands wander over Castiel's defined muscles. The Angel groaned at his touch and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Dean leant back, sitting on his haunches, just watching the Angel take deep breathes. Castiel eyed him as the Hunter stroked the insides of Castiel's thighs. Dean moved his hands to Castiel's stomach and then back down to his hips, massaging in slow strokes that made the Angel arch up off the bed.

"Dean!" Castiel gasped out, the front of his boxers already slightly wet.

Dean gave him an evil grin and palmed him through his boxers. The Angel let out a mewl and bucked into Dean's hand, trying to create the friction that Dean was denying him. Dean replaced his hand with his mouth, barley brushing his lips over Castiel's straining erection. The slight contact made Castiel nearly lose his mind and he had to stop himself from screaming out.

"Dean, please," he cried.

"Not yet," Dean replied, voice nearly too low to hear.

The Hunter slipped his hands under Castiel's boxers, running his fingers along the hot flesh under the waistband. Castiel whined and Dean slipped the boxers down all the way. He nosed the inside of Castiel's right thigh, breath hot as it beat against Castiel's flushed skin.

Dean trailed open mouthed kisses along the inside of Castiel's thigh and over his hips, his mouth hot and wet, but never at the place Castiel wanted him to be. Castiel wriggled beneath Dean, muttering incoherent things about the Hunter. Dean's fingernails scratched down the outside of Castiel's thighs and he moved one hand up to cup the Angel, pumping once before drawing away again.

"Fuck, Dean," Castiel growled.

Dean grinned at the obscenity, so foreign coming from the Angel. He moved back down to Castiel's legs, which were spread wide beneath him as the Angel squirmed. He pressed a kiss to the skin under Castiel's navel, moving lower, using more tongue as he neared the Angel's cock. He finally took Castiel in his mouth and the Angel screamed, actually screamed. Dean made to pull away, but Castiel shook his head, grabbing Dean's hair and holding him there.

Dean licked a stripe up Castiel's dick and the Angel cried out, thrusting into the wet heat of Dean's mouth. Dean swirled his tongue around the sensitive skin, licking over the tip of Castiel's cock. He sucked a few times, working his mouth in the way that he knew would make the Angel come undone.

"Shit, shit, shit," Castiel muttered.

He yanked at Dean's hair and bucked into the Hunter's mouth. Dean tried to focus on breathing as Castiel thrust at him, and then the Angel was coming, his release warm in Dean's mouth. Dean swallowed it down and then kissed his way back up Castiel's limp body. Castiel was completely spent and he looked up at Dean through lidded eyes, a small smile on his lips.

Dean kissed it off of him, and Castiel moaned into his mouth, then he was flipping them over so that he was on top of Dean. He moved his mouth to Dean's neck and bit him hard before laving his tongue over the bruised skin.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean moaned.

Castiel pulled away from Dean's skin and looked down at the Hunter. "Turn over," he ordered.

Dean obeyed, and then he felt Castiel's hands on his back, pushing at his shoulders, pressing him into the bed as the Angel kneeled on top of him. Dean scrunched his eyes shut as Castiel began kissing his way down Dean's back, mouthing at the skin. He inhaled sharply as he felt the tip of Castiel's tongue against his skin. The Angel licked his way down Dean's spine, stopping as he reached Dean's hips.

Dean felt strong hands slide under him and then Castiel was turning him over roughly. Dean had a moment to see the Angel's face before Castiel's wet mouth began assaulting his nipples. Dean moaned and scraped his nails down Castiel's back, his hips bucking into Castiel's.

Castiel's thumbs pressed into Dean's hips, so hard that they left bruises. Dean leaned up and captured Castiel's mouth with his, working his lips against the Angel's as he slipped a hand down toward his own dick, which was straining against his jeans.

Castiel had other ideas. He grabbed Dean's wrist with one hand, stopping him. The other hand slowly unzipped Dean's fly and then pulled the jeans off, along with Dean's boxers. Dean felt his head go light as Castiel ran his thumb down his cock. He swiped at Dean's slit and Dean arched up from the bed, gasping against Castiel's lips. Castiel pumped his hands a few times and Dean cried out.

"Fuck, Cas," he panted.

Castiel replaced his hand with his mouth, taking Dean in as far as he could. He slid his tongue along the sensitive underside of Dean's dick and Dean let out another, "Fuck." Castiel slid his tongue up and down, mirroring Dean's earlier actions and Dean gripped Castiel's shoulders, watching the Angel's head bob up and down between his legs. Castiel's teeth dragged along Dean's cock ever so slightly and Dean's eyes went wide. He thrust deep into the damp heat of Castiel's mouth and then he was coming fast, hips raised, every muscled clenched.

He sank down onto the mattress, his mind too fuzzy to comprehend much besides the sound of Castiel swallowing and then breathing heavily. He opened his eyes a crack to look at Castiel and then reached a hand out to the Angel, which Castiel gripped tightly, intertwining their fingers as he climbed up Dean's body to lie beside him on the sweat dampened sheets.

"Christ, Cas," Dean whispered into the side of Castiel's neck.

"Good?" Castiel asked.

"Oh yeah," Dean breathed.

He placed a kiss to the underside of Castiel's jaw, and he could feel the Angel's content hum vibrate though him. Lazily he began exploring Castiel's upper body, kissing the skin occasionally and murmuring appreciation. As he reached Castiel's right shoulder he noticed a strange shadow there. He moved Castiel over a bit so that he could look at his back.

Dean's mouth fell open. Shit. How did he not notice this? The pale skin of Castiel's back was covered in ink, an intricate tattoo of angel wings, which sprouted from each shoulder blade. The left wing was folded, while the right wound around Castiel's shoulder and upper arm. It was the most amazing thing Dean had ever seen. He let his eyes wander down each of the feathers that had been inked into the Angel's skin. They were so intricate, black and beautiful, so lifelike that Dean expected them to be soft as he reached out a hand to brush his fingers down the right wing. Castiel leaned into the touch as Dean's hands slipped over his sweaty skin, tracing the outline of each individual feather.

"It was Gabriel's idea," Castiel explained, "Well, his fault actually. We went out for a couple of drinks after a hunt one night, and I had a few too many. Woke up with these."

"I'm not gonna lie," Dean said, "these are badass." Castiel chuckled and Dean asked, "Please tell me that Gabriel ended up with something frilly and pink across his ass."

Castiel smiled and turned around so that he could kiss Dean soft and slow. Dean smiled against the Angel's lips and then he pulled away and turned Castiel over again. He kissed each of Castiel's shoulder blades, lips against the imprint of the dark wings. Castiel moaned as Dean trailed his lips down the feathers, going lower and lower until he reached the ends of the primaries, which stopped right above Castiel's ass. Dean ran his tongue along the shaft of the largest primary feather of the left wing and Castiel jerked against the bed. Dean stilled him with a hand to the small of his back as he continued mapping the pattern of the wings with his mouth.

Once he'd finished with the left wing, he moved onto the right, pressing open mouthed kisses over the feathers that were inked onto Castiel's shoulder, and then on the feathers that fanned out down Castiel's upper arm. Castiel's hand fisted into Dean's hair as Dean nipped at Castiel's shoulder.

"Damn, Cas," Dean breathed against his skin.

Castiel pushed his hips from the bed, pressing his ass into Dean's groin and making Dean start to go hard again. Dean slid off the Angel, saying, "We should probably get some sleep."

"You sure?" Castiel asked, an evil grin marring his features.

He flipped over and rammed his hips into Dean's. Dean gasped and then Castiel was wrapping his legs around Dean's back, pulling him down as his mouth found Dean's again. He nipped at Dean's bottom lip, making the Hunter moan into his mouth. Dean rutted against Castiel's hip as the Angel sucked on his lips, biting and then soothing with his tongue. Castiel slipped his hand between them, nails scraping against Dean's stomach. Dean hissed into the Angel's ear as Castiel's fingers brushed against his cock every so lightly.

"Shit," Dean gasped.

He grabbed Castiel's hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of it and then the inside of Castiel's wrist. However much he wanted to go another round, or five for that matter, he knew that he'd regret it in the morning when he had to make the drive back to base.

As if Castiel had read his mind, the Angel said, "You're right."

He made to get off the bed, but Dean held onto his wrist, saying, "You're not going anywhere."

He yanked Castiel back onto the bed, pulling him close and scooting up behind him, burying his nose in the crook of Castiel's neck. Castiel fidgeted in his arms and Dean threw a leg over the Angel's, keeping him pinned against his chest.

"Dean I don't think it would be wise if I stay," Castiel said, "I should keep on the move incase Michael is looking for me."

"I don't care," Dean mumbled.

Castiel sighed and Dean moved his lips to the Angel's ear, licking along the shell of Castiel's ear and then nibbling his earlobe. He could feel Castiel suck in a hiss of air as he pressed a wet kiss to Castiel's neck.

"Dean, I..."

"Shut up," Dean ordered.

He swirled his tongue over the design of feathers on Castiel's shoulder and whispered against the stained flesh, "You're staying here and I don't give a damn about what Michael does. We'll put up sigils or whatever, but you're not gonna leave."

"Alright," Castiel conceded, "but you're going to have to let me go so I can put up the sigils."

"Don't wanna," Dean whined, placing his nose between Castiel's shoulder blades and inhaling a scent that was entirely Cas.

Castiel rolled his eyes and pried Dean's hands from his middle. He hopped off the bed and Dean watched as Castiel grabbed a pair of boxers off the floor. He pulled them up and then went over to the motel door. An Angel blade appeared in his hand, having materialized from thin air. He ran the edge of the blade along his arm, creating a stripe of blood that dripped onto the carpet. Dipping two fingers into the cut, he covered them thoroughly with the liquid and then began drawing a sigil on the door.

He finished and looked at the sigil with satisfaction, then he padded back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it with his bloodied arm outstretched. He shut his eyes and the skin began to heal itself. That strange pained expression flitted across Castiel's face and Dean reached out to rub his hand down the Angel's thigh. Castiel threading his fingers through Dean's and gripped his hand tightly as he finished healing himself.

Dean moved his other hand to the boxers that Castiel was wearing. He snapped the waistband and commented, "I think those are mine."

"Apologies," Castiel replied, before slipping them off and tossing them over his shoulder.

Dean snorted and Castiel gave him a confused look. Dean just shook his head and motioned for the Angel to lie back down. Castiel did and Dean pulled him close again, placing a soft kiss to Castiel's chapped lips. Castiel sank into Dean's embrace and Dean kissed the wings on Castiel's back again. He was suddenly exhausted, but he was happy, and content, especially with Castiel in his arms.

It was all so strange, this Angel, the enemy that he'd sworn to kill, and yet, here he was clinging to the warm body of Castiel. But Castiel wasn't just an Angel to him anymore, he was a lover, a friend that Dean was proud to have. He didn't care what Jo or Ash thought about the Angels, he had fallen for Cas, and he wasn't going to redeem himself anytime soon, because he had it bad for Castiel.

After a few minutes Dean noticed that Castiel's breathing had slowed. He moved so that he could look down at the Angel. Castiel was sleeping, his mouth slightly open, breath coming out in slow beats against Dean's chest. _So much for not needing sleep_, Dean thought with a smile.

* * *

Dean awoke to a heavy weight on top of him. He opened an eye to see that Castiel had climbed on top of him in the middle of the night. He smiled to himself and ran his hands over Castiel's back, tracing the pattern of the wings with the pads of his thumb. He swiped his thumbs over Castiel's sharp hipbones and the Angel stirred a bit, still not fully awake. Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's slack lips, and then to Castiel's cheeks, his eyelids, the bottom of his jaw, and back to his lips again.

Castiel's eyes opened slowly as Dean kissed his nose. Dean smiled at him and said, "Morning."

Castiel mumbled something about wanting to go back to sleep and he nosed at Dean's shoulder. Dean stroked Castiel's back slowly, moving his hands down until he reached Castiel's hips. He palmed Castiel's ass in his hands and the Angel moved against him involuntarily, a tiny sound coming from his throat. Dean pushed his hips into Castiel's slightly and the Angel groaned.

"Dean," Castiel warned as Dean's hands slipped in between them, fingers stroking down the insides of Castiel's thighs.

Dean grinned against Castiel's shoulder and placed a kiss to the dark ink of the feathers than spanned over the skin. He then he gripped the Angel's cock tightly, jacking his hand up and down until Castiel was groaning into his neck, breath coming out in short gasps.

"You like that?" Dean growled.

Castiel whined and arched his hips so that there was more room for Dean's hand. Dean rubbed his thumb over the tip of Castiel's dick and felt Castiel's teeth bite into his shoulder as the Angel's hands fisted into the sheets. Dean moved his lips to Castiel's and kissed him hard, sucking on the Angel's bottom lip as he sped up the movement of his hand. Soon his fingers were sticky from Castiel's precome.

Castiel gasped into his neck and Dean grabbed the Angel's hand, yanking it down to his own cock, which was half hard already. Castiel took the hint and grasped Dean's dick tightly, stroking from base to tip until Dean was muttering obscenities into Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel quickened his movements, and Dean rutted against his hand, rolling in hips into Castiel's fist. He tried to focus on his own task, sliding one finger over Castiel's slit and making the Angel bite into his skin again. Castiel came first, hard and fast, come spilling over Dean's hand. Dean followed soon after, soaking the bed sheets.

"Fucking Christ," he gasped as Castiel went limp on top of him.

Castiel grinned into Dean's shoulder and Dean ran a finger down the Angel's spine while pressing soft kisses to Castiel's collar bone. Castiel intertwined his fingers with Dean's, bringing Dean's hand to his mouth and kissing each of his knuckles. Dean hummed happily, lips against Castiel's chest. He was in the process of kissing his way up Castiel's neck when his phone went off, AC/DC blaring through the motel room.

He pulled his mouth away from Castiel's collar bone with a wet pop. "Gotta get that," he said, pushing against Castiel's shoulders.

Castiel rolled off him slowly and Dean slid off the bed to go find his jeans. He fished his phone from the pocket and brought it up to his ear.

"Yeah?"

Jo's voice answered him, "Dean it's Sam. He's awake."

* * *

Dean was back at the base in record time, having driven at least fifty miles over the speed limit the entire way. He hadn't even taken the time to sort out his clothes from Castiel's, which was why Castiel was currently dressed in Dean's t-shirt while Dean was wearing Castiel's Oxford under his jacket. He had just thrown on the closest article of clothing and dragged Cas into the Impala, revving the engine and slamming his foot down on the gas, making the tires squeak against the pavement.

Castiel had protested at first. "Dean this is your brother. I should go."

But Dean had shouted a firm, "No!" and thrown Castiel into the car. He wasn't taking any chances and he sure as hell didn't want to get his brother back just to lose the Angel. Plus, Castiel could heal, and Dean had a feeling that Sam wasn't going to be in the best shape.

Dean shifted the car into park as they rolled to a stop outside of the warehouse. His heart was beating fast. Sam had been out for nearly a month and a half and now he was awake. Dean wasn't sure what to do. His hands shook as he pulled the key from the ignition. Castiel grabbed them and held them tightly.

"It's alright, Dean," he whispered.

Dean nodded and then took a deep breath. He and Castiel entered the building together, hands still firmly clasped. As they walked down the hallway toward the ward Dean began to feel sick. He couldn't do this, but Castiel was gripping his hand tightly and then his lips were there, pressing a quick kiss to Dean's cheek and whispering reassurance.

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He squared his shoulders and then pushed open the large iron door to reveal an empty room. The bed where Sam had been for the longest of times was vacant and Dean nearly had a heart attack from the sight. He knew Sam wouldn't be here, but he needed to confirm that this was actually happening. The empty bed was enough of a confirmation and Dean turned heel and ran out of the ward, pulling Castiel behind him. They ran toward the kitchen and Dean skidded to a halt. They were all there, Jo, Ash, Garth, and Sam, all just sitting at the table, laughing as if it were any normal day.

Dean pulled Castiel aside and said, "They can't see you. Sam can't see you."

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel reassured him, "I'll wait in the Impala."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Dean said distractedly.

"It's gonna be fine," Castiel told him.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of Dean's jacket and pulled the keys to the Impala out, then he kissed Dean softly before vanishing, leaving the sound of rushing wind in Dean's ears. Dean blinked a few times and mustered up the courage to step into the kitchen.

As soon as Sam's eyes met his, it was all over. He was running forward as Sam stood up so fast he nearly knocked over the table. The hug was hard, bone crushing, Dean gripping Sam as tightly as he could. Sam patted him on the back and Dean buried his nose in Sam's mane of hair.

When they finally pulled apart Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders and shook him a few times before he could actually stutter out a coherent sentence, but even then it was just a jumble of words about Sam being back.

Sam grinned and said, "Good to see you too."

Dean laughed, went in for another hug, and then Sam was pressing a cold bottle of beer into his hand and pulling up a chair for him at the table. Dean fell down into it, still smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"How? Dean asked, "What brought you out of it?"

"I honestly don't know," Sam replied, "I just woke up and that was that."

"That's it?

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. I don't really know what happened. I just remember being damn hungry."

"He ate like five burgers in ten minutes," Jo commented, a big smile on her face.

Dean grinned and muttered, "Son of a bitch."

Garth hiccupped from his left and said something about a raisin. Ash rolled his eyes and then belched loudly. Jo punched him in the side and then she was pulling both of them out of the room, saying how Dean and Sam needed time to catch up.

Once they were gone, Dean took a long swig of his beer and then asked, "But seriously, you don't remember how you woke up?"

"I don't even remember why I was out," Sam replied, fiddling with the neck of his bottle.

"What?"

Sam looked confused and said to the table, "I don't remember, Dean. When I woke up it was like I'd just taken a hell of a long nap, and then Jo told me I'd been out for nearly two months." His hazel eyes locked with Dean's and he asked softly, "Dean, is Jess dead?"

Dean's mouth went dry and he nodded slowly. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he asked, "Was it the Angels?"

"Yeah."

Sam's jaw clenched. "Did you guys gank them?"

"No," Dean replied. Sam swallowed and Dean continued, "But we found a way to."

"So then why are you guys just sitting around?" Sam said angrily.

"Cause it's not that easy. We have to get the weapons from the Angels themselves."

"Then why aren't you out there finding a damn Angel?" Sam yelled.

"You think these guys just live on street corners?" Dean retorted.

"But Ash told me you and Garth talked to some guy about them, he said that Jo had an Angel, Dean. And you know what else she told me? That you wanted to let him go."

"So what?" Dean yelled, slamming his bottle down on the counter angrily.

"So what?" Sam echoed, "Dean do you not realize that these things killed Jess?"

"You think I don't know that? Of course I know that, but I also know that Jo was wrong about them."

"Really? And how so?"

"They're not all killers, Sam. Cas is not a killer." Dean's eyes went wide as soon as Castiel's name slipped from his lips.

"Cas?" Sam asked, confusion and anger clear on his face, "Who the hell is Cas, Dean? Is he an Angel?"

"Yeah he is," Dean cried, "But he didn't kill Jess. He's my friend, Sam."

Sam put his hands in the air. "I don't care that he didn't kill Jess. He's an Angel. Do the others know that you're buddies with the thing that they've been trying to track down and kill?"

"No, they don't and I don't need you bitching about it to them, cause they won't understand."

"Understand what, Dean?" Sam said, raising his eyebrows.

"That we judged these Angels too soon. I know what they did to Jess and I know what you think they are, but it's not true. They're soldiers, serving higher Angels, Archangels, who are the ones giving the orders. Cas didn't obey though, I wouldn't be sitting here before you if he had followed his orders."

"Wait, Cas was supposed to kill you?"

"Yeah, but he didn't and he's not going to. He's on our side, Sam and he's not the enemy here. There are other Angels who we should be fighting. These Archangels, Michael and Lucifer."

Sam put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. "Which one of them killed Jess?"

"Michael's Angels."

"So then we go after them."

Sam got up from table, but Dean put a hand on his arm. "We can't. Not yet. Michael is damn powerful, going in guns blazing is a suicide mission. I've got a plan though, but it involves finding another Archangel. Gabriel, he's Cas's brother."

"So we're finding this Gabriel then, in order to waste the Angel that killed Jess, because your Angel said that that would work?" Sam summed up.

"Pretty much, but it's not just to kill Michael. The other Archngel Lucifer could also be a problem. I guess that the Angels think that we're inferior or something, which is why they're goin' on a Hunter killing spree."

Sam groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This is insane, Dean."

"Not exactly the wakeup call you wanted, huh?"

"Hell no." Sam took a deep breath, "But I'm good."

"Really?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I mean I can't do anything about this. I was a potato for nearly two months. I gotta trust that you guys know what you're doing. Although I hope that _you_ know what you're doing, Dean, with this Cas guy."

"Trust me, he's with us. Don't worry." Dean got up and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, saying, "I'm just glad you're back."

"Me too," Sam breathed.

Dean gave him a pat on the back and then asked, "But you seriously don't remember anything? None of the experiments? The dream coma thing?"

Sam shook his head. "None of it."

"Well at least you're here now," Dean commented, squeezing Sam's arm, "Now come on, I want you to talk with Cas."

Dean began to exit the kitchen, expecting Sam to follow him, but the younger Winchester didn't. Dean turned around to find his brother staring in horror at one of the empty kitchen chairs.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam eyes flicked to Dean and then back to the chair and then his brow lowered in confusion. Dean went over to him. "What is it?"

"I thought it saw..." Sam shook his head, "No, never mind, it was just a shadow."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Sam gasped.

He straightened up and headed out of the kitchen, shouting Dean to come on. Dean took a final glance to the empty chair and then followed his brother. He watched Sam as they made their way down the hallway. There was something a bit off about Sam, but Dean couldn't put his finger on it. He was probably just imagining it. Sam was back and he was open to the idea of Cas, which was all that Dean cared about. Although he would hold off on mentioning the fact that he and Cas were sorta in a relationship until he was sure that Jo, Ash and Garth weren't going to try and gank Castiel on sight.

They made it as far as the end of the hallway and then Jo appeared. She looked at Dean and said, "There's someone in your car, Dean. Some guy who's been blaring your horn for five minutes straight now. Is he with you?"

"Dammit," Dean muttered under his breath. He shoved past Jo, "Yeah, he's with me. But Sam and I need to talk to him alone. I'll bring him inside in a bit."

"Okay, " Jo said, a confused look on her features as Dean and Sam went outside, shutting the door behind him.

Castiel was sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala. He had one hand on the steering wheel and was honking the horn, the sound long and drawn out. Dean went over and pounded on the hood of the car. Castiel took his hand off the wheel and looked up at him. Upon seeing that it was Dean, he grinned broadly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Cas?" Dean asked, opening the car door so the Angel could step out.

"I was listening to the pitch of the horn," Castiel explained.

"Why?"

"Because I was bored," Castiel replied simply. He noticed Sam and stepped toward him, extending a hand. "You must be Sam. I'm Castiel."

Sam shook Castiel's hand hesitantly. "Hey."

"It's a pleasure," Castiel told him. He released Sam's hand and then said softly, "My condolences about your girlfriend."

A shadow of anger passed over Sam's face, and he said through gritted teeth, "Thanks."

Castiel looked at Dean, "I assume you've told Sam about the plan?"

"Yeah," Dean said, coming to stand beside Castiel.

Castiel nodded. "Good." He looked up at the cloudless sky and remarked, "I'll go and search for Gabriel. If you need to speak with me, just call and I'll hear you."

He made to leave but Dean grabbed the sleeve of his trench coat. "Whoa there, I got one more thing for you to do before you go." He pointed to Sam. "I want you to give him a check up, make sure everything's in order."

"What?" Sam asked, backing away from Castiel.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean explained, "Cas can do this sorta thing, he can heal people and I wanna be sure that you're one hundred percent."

"I'm fine, Dean. Really."

"It won't hurt," Castiel reassured Sam, stepping close to him.

Sam watched with wide eyes as Castiel's fingers came up to cup his face, spread out over his temples. The Angel closed his eyes and Sam inhaled sharply, his own eyes fluttering shut. Dean looked on as Castiel's face contorted in pain. Sam jerked a bit and Castiel placed on hand over Sam's heart, stilling him as he finished his inspection.

He dropped his hands and said, "He's fine."

"Good," Dean breathed.

He clapped Sam on the back and Sam groaned. "What was that?"

"Just some Angel mojo," Dean said, putting an arm around Castiel's shoulder, "These guys have got powers."

Castiel leaned into Dean a bit and Dean released him quickly, noting the small glance of confusion from Castiel. He turned to Sam and said, "I gotta talk with Cas for a bit. I'll meet you inside."

"Okay," Sam said. He made his way back inside, but Dean could see him give him a look before shutting the door.

Dean turned to Castiel. "Are you sure that Sam's alright?" Castiel bit his lip and Dean warned, "Cas..."

"Physically he's fine," Castiel said, "But it's almost as if someone has put up a barrier in his head. A sort of blockage in his consciousness, keeping him from remembering anything in the coma."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Sam seems to have been forced awake. My guess is someone very powerful invaded his mind and put him back into reality."

"Do you think it was one of you guys?" Dean asked.

"It's a possibility. An Archangel would definitely be strong enough."

"So you're saying that Michael woke my brother up?"

"Or Lucifer. Or possibly even Raphael."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Dammit. I get my brother back and it's probably because some dick decided to set the alarm."

"Gabriel will be able to tell," Castiel reassured him.

"Then you get out there and find him," Dean replied. Castiel nodded and Dean said, "Be safe."

He pulled Castiel in for a rough kiss, teeth scraping along the Angel's bottom lip as his hands bunched in Castiel's trench coat. Castiel sighed into Dean's mouth and pressed closer to the Hunter, pinning him against the Impala.

When they finally broke apart Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's, panting against Dean's lips. He placed one final kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth and then the feel of Castiel's chapped lips were replaced with a slight wind as the Angel vanished into the air.

Dean took a moment to compose himself and then he went back into the warehouse. Sam was waiting for him an accusing look on his face.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "Cas was wearing your shirt, Dean and I'm not even gonna mention what you guys were just doing outside."

Dean swallowed nervously and tried to think of what to say, but Sam was already asking him, "You wanna tell me the real reason you trust Cas so much?"

"Okay, so maybe he's more than a friend," Dean answered, not looking Sam in the eye, "But he _is _on our side."

"Is he really? Or are you just defending him cause he's your fuck buddy?" Sam asked angrily.

"He's helping us, okay," Dean growled.

He pushed past Sam, roughly shoving him when Sam tried to stop him. Sam yelled at him, but Dean ignored him. He wasn't going to listen to Sam chew him out. He trusted Cas and he knew that the Angel was going to help them. He didn't care if the others didn't believe him.

Dean slammed the door to his quarters and then fell down on his sleeping bag, the concrete hard under his back. He shut his eyes and breathed. He just wanted Cas back, he wanted his friends to understand that Cas was good, that he was helping them against a foe that they didn't really understand. Hell, Dean still didn't know exactly what he was fighting for. He supposed it had something to do with peace and most likely freedom, but it was freedom for the Angel's, for Cas. Because Cas wasn't just a soldier following orders, he had a choice and he had chosen to help Dean.


End file.
